


To First Set Our Hearts Right

by Remasa



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gabriel is a decent person, Gen, Hawk Moth's Identity Is Ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remasa/pseuds/Remasa
Summary: To put the family in order, we must first cultivate our personal life; we must first set our hearts right. – ConfuciusGabriel Agreste never has been Father of The Year material. But now he might not even get to be just "a father" as after years of silent treatment his in-laws decide to take custody of Adrien using the akuma attacks as an excuse. As Gabriel fights for his son, he wonders if Adrien really wants to go back to living with him after seeing him interact with his loving grandparents.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline Spoilers: Takes place before Volpina. The majority of this was written before Season 2 aired, and as such may conflict with events that have occurred. This story is Season 2 spoiler free.

_Chapter 1_

The buzzing of the intercom cut through Gabriel Agreste's focus. He frowned at the intrusion and set aside his tablet. He had been reviewing the latest trends for that season and brainstorming ideas for the upcoming quarterly line. He had ordered no interruptions. Once he got into his designer zone of inspiration, he could plot out the basic theme and colors and materials in an entire afternoon. But that required no distractions.

"Yes?" he spoke, tapping the button. He kept the irritation from his voice. He knew it must be important if Nathalie was calling. His assistant knew his rules and routine by now.

"Sir, I apologize for disturbing you, but a Mr. and Mrs. Hermine and Marie Eclat are here requesting to see you. They insisted it was urgent."

Gabriel frowned. "I'll be right down." He closed the program on his tablet and headed out of his office. Hermine and Marie were Yvette's parents – his in-laws. They had been a thorn in Gabriel's side ever since he began courting their daughter.

"No daughter of mine will ever marry a poor art student such as you!" were some of the last words Gabriel and Hermine exchanged.

Yvette attempted to keep in touch with her parents – a notion Gabriel never attempted to dissuade but always provided a shoulder for her to cry upon when her letters went unanswered. Eventually, she gave up entirely sometime after Adrien's birth when her joyful announcement was met with no response. Again.

The fact that they would show up in his life after so long did not bode well. Gabriel fought to keep the mounting dread from overtaking his senses. He schooled his expression into the familiar one of disdain, discovering he didn't need to try so hard to adopt it.

"Ah, Gabriel," Hermine spoke as he entered through the doors, his voice crisp with disapproval. "It's about time. It's not surprising you would keep us waiting. You never did have any manners."

Years ago, this would have riled him up but the fashion designer had long since perfected his poker face in the two decades since he last saw Yvette's parents.

"Hermine," he greeted with a stiff nod in a dull tone, "Marie." Another curt nod. "What are you doing here? I thought you made it quite clear you both wished to remain absent from our lives."

"Your life, perhaps," Hermine said. He stood up from where he had been seated and Gabriel took a moment to study him. He shared Yvette's startling green eyes and sunshine blonde hair - though his was now entirely white. He stood a head shorter than Gabriel but carried himself with the kind of authority the fashion mogul often adopted. Gabriel's lips turned downward as his mind drew the comparison. He wanted to relax his stance to separate him from his father-in-law, but didn't dare yield any ground. He waited for Hermine to continue. "We've come to see our grandson."

Gabriel refrained from rolling his eyes and instead merely lifted one eyebrow at the man. "Why the sudden interest?" he asked, mildly curious. "You've never wanted to be part of his life before. Why now?"

Hermine shrugged – an overt gesture designed to disarm him. He wasn't fooled. "We're getting on in our ages. We would like to spend our remaining years reconnecting with Adrien."

"I'm surprised you know his name," Gabriel said before he could stop himself.

His father-in-law smiled. Gabriel immediately pictured a shark closing in on its prey. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he had to fight off the sudden inexplicable rush of trepidation that shot through him.

"That's funny," Hermine replied, "coming from you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he snapped. He narrowed his eyes at Hermine at the implied accusation.

"I've looked into you, Gabriel," Yvette's father said. "You're never present in Adrien's life. No exposure to children his own age. You've never attended any of the events at his school. Not a single one."

Gabriel's hands began to tremble behind his back. He clenched them into fists to still their motion. "How dare you come into my home and criticize me about not being there for my son," he began in a low growl, a sudden fatherly protectiveness shooting through him.

"Furthermore," the older man continued, unperturbed by Gabriel's threat, "it has come to our attentions that your actions are putting Adrien into danger."

Gabriel glowered at him with the best furious expression he could manage – the kind he reserved for when senior designers informed him of mistakes to the lineup during Fashion Week. He hoped it would have the same effect on Hermine as it often did on his employees. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Akumas, Gabriel," Hermine replied in a calm, steady voice. No such luck on the intimidation, then.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Hawkmoth indiscriminately attacks anyone in the city. You cannot possibly blame me for his actions."

Hermine withdrew a thick booklet of papers from the briefcase resting on the floor and for the second time that day, a glimmer of fear threaded through him. "Simon Says," Hermine said, putting on a pair of glasses and flipping through the pages as if he were reading off from the typed print. Gabriel knew better than to believe Hermine didn't already have everything pertinent memorized. "We all saw on live television how your actions caused his akumatization." Hermine shook his head sadly. "The man successfully launched an attack on you. In your own home. This home. I understand Adrien was also present. You put him into danger. What would the akuma have done to him if he stumbled across Adrien before finding you?"

The designer was stunned into a moment of silence. He would never admit that those same thoughts haunted him late at night, when he would suddenly bolt from a deep sleep, gasping and panting and drenched in sweat and fighting off the frenzied urge to dash over to Adrien's room just to make sure his son was safe and asleep. Hermine smiled and continued, knowing he had Gabriel at a momentary disadvantage.

"You are an unfit parent," he told Gabriel, driving the final nail home. He stepped over to the taller man and handed him the papers. Gabriel accepted on instinct, still in a dull state of disbelief at the events spiraling out of his control. "And the courts agree. Adrien is now under our custody. We're his legal guardians."

"What?" Gabriel exploded.

"It's all in the papers," Hermine said, tapping the sheets with his finger. "There will be a court date in about a month to finalize everything, but the judge agreed it would be best to get Adrien acclimated to his new home as soon as possible."

"This is an outrage!" the designer shouted. "I will not participate in this farce." Despite his words, his chest felt like a vise had clenched around his heart.

"You have no choice," Hermine told him. "It's all in the documents."

"And how many judges did you have to bribe or threaten to get them to agree to this?" Gabriel asked. "You were never above throwing around your influence when you were a senator and I don't believe you've stopped now."

Hermine's face darkened. "I don't bribe or threaten anyone. I suggest you take a moment to cool your head by summoning our grandson."

"He's at fencing practice," Gabriel snapped. "And that gives me more than enough time to study these documents." The papers felt heavy in his hands as he gripped them, taking care not to damage the pages. He stormed over to the door and swung it open, thrusting the papers at Nathalie who was standing just outside. "Get these to my lawyer."

"It won't do you any good," Hermine said.

"And make a copy," Gabriel added, ignoring the older man.

"No need," his father-in-law said. "I brought a second set." He held up another thick packet of papers. Gabriel clenched his teeth as Nathalie accepted the packet of papers with a nod and disappeared. The designer stalked back over to Hermine and snatched the documents. He continued to his desk without another word, already flipping through the papers before he even sat.

In the wake of the shouting, the ensuing silence was almost deafening. Gabriel ignored the awkward and uncomfortable stillness in the air. His sole focus was on the documents, and with each page he turned, it was as if another knife stabbed at his heart.

He was familiar with contracts and official documents. Even as his legal team reviewed everything, Gabriel had signed enough forms and seen enough official seals to recognize certain features which would allow for loopholes or the voiding of such documents.

His keen eye spotted none of these.

He could feel his face growing paler the further into the papers he read. Laid out the case. Documented the attack, the times, the TV station – every detail meticulously indicated and noted.

Was this really it? Was he really going to lose the one person he loved most in this world over a few pages of legal jibberish?

"I take it from your silence that you find no fault with the papers?" Hermine spoke up at last.

Gabriel lifted his eyes from the paper and settled them on his father-in-law, mustering up the deadliest glare he could. "I'm not surrendering Adrien to your care," he said.

Hermine's face hardened. "You have no choice, Gabriel. That is a court-ordered, legal document in your hands. Do you dare to argue a judge's orders?"

The elder Agreste stood, slamming a fist onto the desk. His eyes flashed in anger. "You can't just barge in here after twenty years of ignoring me and my family and whisk my son away. You're strangers to him. How can you justify uprooting him? You can't do this."

"I can," Hermine replied, his voice ice to match Gabriel's fire. "Shall I summon the police? You'll be defying a court order. I would hate to see you spend a night in jail over this. Imagine what your investors would think when they read about this in the headlines of the papers tomorrow. The tabloids would destroy you. The fallout alone would set your company back months in terms of revenue lost. Think of the damage control you would have to do."

Gabriel bristled at the underlying implication. "How dare you threaten me," he growled, his lips forming into a snarl.

"Then I believe you'll just have to see reason. You're a logical man, Gabriel. You know that I'm right and these documents are in order. Do yourself a favor and don't try to fight."

"I will always fight for my son."

"But not tonight," Hermine said. "You'll have your day in court." Gabriel opened his mouth again, but before he could retort, they all heard the front door open and close. His father-in-law smiled. "Ah, I believe it's time to meet my grandson. I'll give you a few moments to explain things. But do be quick about it. I would like to get back home before dark and I'm sure you have lots of important things to work on."

The jab at his busy work life didn't get lost on Gabriel. He ignored the older man and stalked over to the door, throwing it open. "Adrien!" he barked, then immediately regretted it when his son jumped. "Come down here," he said, softening his tone. "I have something important to tell you."

* * *

Adrien took one look at his father's ashen expression and vaguely wondered if he was in some kind of trouble. He _had_ sneaked out the night before to fight an akuma but he had been _certain_ he returned before anyone noticed. He fought against the impulse to glance at his pocket where Plagg rested.

"Yes, Father," he replied, turning around and heading back downstairs. As he passed by his father, Gabriel rested one hand upon Adrien's shoulder. His hand trembled. Adrien looked up into his father's eyes. Gabriel opened his mouth and appeared to be trying to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. Adrien didn't think he had ever seen his father speechless or so shaken, except when his mother had vanished.

Adrien swallowed. "Am I in trouble?" he asked in a timid voice.

"Do you get in trouble often?" an unfamiliar voice asked from inside the room. Startled, Adrien turned towards the sound to find an old man standing and an old lady sitting on a chair next to him.

"No," Adrien said. "Who are you?"

The man smiled at him and Adrien idly noted that his eyes were a similar shade of green to his own. "We're your grandparents, Adrien."

He blinked. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "but you're my _what_?"

"Your grandparents," the man repeated. "On your mother's side."

"Uhm..." A million thoughts raced through his mind. "What are you doing here?" he settled on.

"The courts have decided that your father is not fit to parent you," the man – no, his grandfather – said. "We're your legal guardians now."

"What?" Adrien gasped, then looked up at his father, who glared at his grandfather with a venomous expression. He had yet to release his hand from Adrien's shoulder and Adrien could feel his grip tightening. "Father, what is this about?"

Gabriel stared down at Adrien. "It's just a temporary situation," he assured him, "but you're going to have to live with your grandparents for the time being." Gabriel's face twisted as he spoke.

"What?" Adrien exclaimed again. "For how long?"

"Permanently," his grandfather said.

"No way," came Adrien's immediate reply.

"Don't listen to him, Adrien," his father said. "It's just until the courts decide. One month at most."

The expression on his grandfather's face told Adrien that he doubted Gabriel's words but didn't voice his disbelief. "Pack enough for several nights," his grandfather said instead. "we can come back for the rest once the courts decide with finality. We'll wait outside. Be quick." He offered his hand to his wife and both of them left the room. Gabriel glowered after them until the door closed with a quiet click.

"Father?" Adrien spoke in a quiet voice. Gabriel snapped out of his trance. "It'll be okay, Father," Adrien said, feeling an odd urge to be the one to comfort his dad. "I've never met my grandparents before. It'll give me a chance to get to know them while you straighten this out."

Gabriel's expression fractured for a split second before he smoothed it back into the confident persona Adrien had come to know.

"They never approved of me," Gabriel admitted at last. He focused upon Adrien. "But maybe they'll approve of you. I want you to be on your best behavior," his father told him, brushing off invisible lint from Adrien's shoulders and smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. Adrien rolled his eyes. "Do what they tell you – and don't roll your eyes at me, young man. No sneaking off while you're with them. You don't need to give them the wrong impression that you're some kind of rebel. I'm certain they would find a way to use it against me," he added in a soft voice. Adrien wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"I'll behave, Father," Adrien recited dutifully, if only to attempt to soothe his father. Gabriel's nervous movements were starting to worry him and, with a shock, he realized that he never wanted to see his father look so completely out of control. Even during the akuma attack, as frustrating as it was for Adrien, it _felt_ as if Gabriel Agreste was completely and utterly in control over everything. Now, Adrien likened this current feeling to water slipping through his fingers. He hated it. He wanted his calm, confident father back.

Father and son stood there for a moment longer before Gabriel cleared his throat. "You better go pack. Hermine – your grandfather – won't be patient forever."

"Right." Adrien left his parent behind and headed upstairs to his room. Plagg flew out once inside and started circling his head.

"Whoa, when I said I love dirty family secrets, I wasn't expecting this," the small kwami crowed.

Adrien flopped down on his couch. "Plagg, what am I going to do?" he asked.

"Relax, kid," the mischievous kwami said. "Your old man is going to fix everything. In the meantime, enjoy your new freedom and get to know your family."

Adrien felt his shoulders relax. Plagg was correct – his father could sort out _any_ problem. He had nothing to worry about. So why not take the next couple of weeks and get to know his mother's side of the family? "You're right," he said with a large smile. He hopped up and rummaged through his closet, emerging at last with a large duffel bag. He started stuffing clothes into it at random.

"Of course I am," Plagg replied, resting upon Adrien's shoulder. "Now be sure and pack all of that cheese. I don't know if your grandparents carry the good stuff."

"Don't you mean the _gouda_ stuff?" Adrien asked with a smirk.

"Kid, I never joke when there's cheese involved."

Twenty minutes later, Adrien slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out of his room. Plagg was safely tucked away in his pocket after a brief but furious debate. The kwami wanted to hide in the duffel. _Ensuring the safe transportation of valuable cargo,_ he had said when Adrien questioned him. The model knew he just wanted to eat the cheese while on route. He couldn't risk having his grandparents sense something amiss, so he vetoed Plagg. With a grumble and a mouthful of cheese as a bribe, the black kwami flew into his usual spot in Adrien's overshirt.

"Adrien?" his father called up to him, waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Adrien walked down and stood in front of him. "Ah, I see you're all packed... Is that all you're taking?"

He shrugged. "I tried to pack light. I don't really need much. I can always come back if I need anything else, right?"

"Ah, right." They stood in awkward silence. His father blinked several times very quickly and the muscles in his jaw fluttered. Adrien shifted his weight. He felt the need to say _something_...

"Don't worry, Father," he began. "I know you'll get everything fixed." He smiled up at the older man.

Abruptly, Gabriel bent down and wrapped Adrien in a giant hug. The boy tensed for a moment, caught off guard, then returned the hug tightly. His father released him just as abruptly a minute later and Adrien's heart constricted with a sharp pang of longing.

"Take care, Adrien," he said, gripping him by the shoulders and staring into his eyes. "I will see you soon. I promise." Gabriel's eyes burned with an intensity Adrien hadn't seen on his father since his mother's disappearance.

Adrien left the house, noting the cool evening breeze and wondered if he should go back to grab some warmer clothes. He wasn't sure if he could face his father again in that state. He spotted his grandparents sitting in the back of a black car. They watched him, obviously waiting for him to emerge from the manor. His grandfather pushed open the door. His decision made for him, Adrien hefted his bag and slid into the back seat of the car. He noted his grandfather also had a driver as he settled in and looped his bag over his head, setting it on the floor.

"Is that all you're bringing?" his grandfather asked, eyeing his duffel bag as Adrien pushed it aside with his feet to make room.

"I can come back if I forgot anything, right?" Adrien asked.

"Of course," his grandfather immediately replied, though his face expressed doubt. For the first time, Adrien wondered if his father would prevail. He glanced back at the house as they pulled away and spotted his father watching from his office window. He couldn't be sure, but he thought the man looked drawn and pale. His heart thudded uncomfortably. Plagg shifted in his pocket, sensing Adrien's increased agitation. He stilled, calming down and making a mental note to give Plagg extra Camembert. He didn't know what he would do without the little guy.

He inhaled through his nose for a few seconds, then exhaled. He was headed away from the familiarity he had known his whole life and into the unknown.

But considering how his last year had been, heading toward the unknown was slowly becoming more of a standard with him. It was a good thing he was a cat.

They always land on their feet.

He would persevere, even if he had to do it alone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Adrien had lived in the vast Agreste manor his whole life, yet his jaw still dropped when he first laid eyes upon his grandparents' home. Equally as large as his father's, the estate recalled the architectural style of old French palaces. Nestled on the outskirts of the city – about twenty-five minutes away from his home – Adrien could practically _see_ the old money leaking from the house. He knew his father had built his empire from nothing, but to know his mother's family was rich was... a bit jarring.

"Wow," he breathed as the car drove up.

His grandfather smiled at his awe. "Like it?" he asked. "It's been in our family for generations. We can trace our ancestry back to the time of Henry IV, when our ancestors acted as close advisers to the crown. Henry IV was the first king-"

"In the Bourbon line, whose descendants ruled until the Revolution in 1792," Adrien finished.

His grandfather's eyes shot up in surprise. "Very good!" he praised, suitably impressed, and Adrien felt a swell of joy at his words. His father would have expected him to know the answer and acknowledged the correct response with usual stoicism. His grandfather glowed with pride.

Adrien grinned up at him. "Thanks," he said. "It's a remarkable house."

His grandfather shared a smile. "Wait until you see the inside," he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial wink.

It did not disappoint. The extravagant opulence seen from the exterior swept inside and drenched the interior with the same elegance. From the gilded-leaf accents spiraling up the door frames to the grand marble staircase with gold banister that welcomed visitors to the hall, everywhere Adrien turned he was greeted with another lavish reminder of olden Parisian nobility.

His father favored minimalist designs and simple color schemes, hiding his wealth among various displays of cutting-edge technology, so Adrien found the explosion of deep reds and golds to be a bit overwhelming.

"It's amazing," he murmured.

"It is," his grandfather agreed, stopping beside Adrien to take in his surroundings with him. "It's a historically recognized landmark. Kings and queens used to host foreign dignitaries in here. Important balls thrown in these very rooms."

"Wow," was all Adrien could get out.

"I'll show you to your room. Then, I'll take you on a tour of the house and grounds."

His grandmother stepped forward with a sweet smile. "It's so good to have you here, Adrien," she said, speaking for the first time. "I'll go help the cooks with dinner. Is there anything special you prefer?"

He shook his head, then winced as Plagg nudged him. "Erm, well I do enjoy having Camembert as a snack. Often," he added.

She smiled again. "I'll make certain to always have some on hand just for you."

"Thank you," he said as she departed.

His grandfather chuckled as she left. "Helping out in the kitchens," he scoffed. He winked at Adrien. "What she really meant was she was going to bake you a welcome cake. She loves to bake and has amazing talent."

"Like Marinette," Adrien blurted out before he could stop himself. He immediately felt his cheeks heat up.

His grandfather quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Marinette? Is she your lady friend?"

"N-no," he stammered, his face flaming redder as he felt Plagg shake with laughter inside his pocket. "She's just a friend. From school. She sits behind me. Her parents own a bakery near school and she's always bringing in sweets to share."

"And let me guess," his grandfather said, "your father disapproves of her?"

"No, actually he likes her," Adrien said. "At least I think he does. It's hard to tell sometimes." Adrien bit his lip.

"You don't have to worry about that anymore," his grandfather said.

Adrien tilted his head. "Why not? I'm only going to be here for a few weeks until Father gets everything straightened."

His grandfather cleared his throat. "Ah, let me show you to your room so you can get settled in." Without another word, he headed off down a long hallway. Adrien hurried after him. They stopped at an ornate door at the end. "Here is your room. It's a bit plainer than the front rooms, but we don't have tour groups visiting back here."

"Tour groups?" Adrien asked.

"The front rooms, gardens and stables are open to the public for guided tours four days each week. In exchange, the government's historical society maintains the property." His grandfather unlocked the door. "Still, it's best you keep your room locked during those days. Here's a keyring. It has keys to the front and back doors and your room." He handed it to Adrien.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. My room is at the opposite end of the house, above the ballroom. I'll give you some time to settle in and then I'll come back in say, an hour?"

Adrien nodded. "Sounds great," he said. His grandfather smiled and left. Adrien pushed open the door and stepped into the room, not really knowing what to expect.

Inside, it was a bit plainer and more modern than the plush extravagance outside. The walls were still painted red with gold trim, but contained none of the decorative inlaid carvings. An enormous flat-screen TV hung across from a large four-poster bed. On an old wooden desk rested a sleek computer monitor. A small sitting chair was in a corner, and a burgundy chaise lay along the wall. A bay window jutted out and a semi-circle of cushions made for the kind of reading nook Plagg would love to curl up on in a sunbeam.

Or a place to escape from when Paris needed Chat Noir.

Adrien tossed his bag on the bed and flopped down beside it. Plagg flew out and took in his surroundings.

"Ooh, swanky," he said, nodding in approval.

Adrien grinned up at him. "You're just happy they're going to provide Camembert."

Plagg zipped over to the desk. "Can't deny that," he said. "This might actually be a fun month."

Adrien rolled off the bed and headed over to the window, peering out into the grounds behind the house. "Am I too far away from Paris?" he asked, voicing one of his fears aloud. "Will I be able to get to an akuma attack in time?"

"Sure," Plagg said, unconcerned. "You're not that far away from the city limits. You won't lose any time."

Adrien's shoulders relaxed as Plagg reassured him of his greatest fear. He quickly unpacked and turned on the computer. He brought up his social media pages – Facebook and Tumblr, before realizing that those pages weren't loading. He frowned and fiddled with the controls for a while, but still couldn't load the pages. He attempted to pull up the _Ladyblog_. No luck there, either. Frustrated he couldn't access much of the internet, he flopped down on his bed until his grandfather knocked on the door, true to his word, one hour later.

"Grandfather," Adrien said as they walked down the hallway, "I can't pull up any of my websites on my computer."

His grandfather nodded. "Internet access is strictly controlled and monitored. We have tour groups from schools that come here and the techs that set up the Wi-Fi blocked all social media sites." Hermine shrugged. "They said it was protocol when there were schoolchildren around."

"Even the _Ladyblog_?" Adrien asked, slightly horrified. How would he know if Paris was being attacked if he couldn't get alerts from that website? "My friends are all in Paris. I have to know if they're safe."

His grandfather's expression wavered as he stared at Adrien's troubled and pleading face. "Well, perhaps I can talk to the tech guys tomorrow and ask them to allow that site to go through."

"Thank you!" Adrien said, immensely relieved.

They continued on with the tour of the house before heading over to the stables. Upon Adrien's excited glee at seeing the horses, his grandfather agreed to begin riding lessons the following afternoon.

"I'll have you fitted for proper gear tomorrow," his grandfather said as he stared out at the riding ring, "but in the meantime, I believe we can find something in your size in the stables. I'll start you off on one of the older horses, of course. At least until you get the hang of riding. Then we can move you up to one of the others once I know you won't get thrown."

Near the end of the tour, Adrien turned to his grandfather. "What time do I need to leave to get to school?"

His grandfather stiffened. "You won't be attending public school anymore," he said.

"What?" Adrien exclaimed.

His grandfather sighed. "I don't understand why your father relented. It's dangerous and unbecoming of my grandson," he added, his words eerily reflecting his own father's many months ago. Adrien considered telling him that, but held his tongue. "Your tutor will arrive promptly at eight tomorrow."

"What about my friends?" Adrien protested. "I like going to school."

"You can make new friends around here," his grandfather replied as if it were the easiest thing in the world. "And perhaps some of your old friends can visit. Now, enough of this talk. I believe dinner is waiting."

Though it was just the three of them dining, dinner was a bit cheerier than he was used to as his grandmother carried on delighted chatter with him. She regaled him with a background of each dish served, some of them her personal favorites and others having a long prestigious history of appearing on royal tables. She delightfully told him all about the various design features of the house – she greatly admired the architecture of the building – and Adrien found himself warming up to her bubbly personality. She seemed like she would have gotten along splendidly with his father, and subsequently lost himself in thoughts of how they became estranged. He debated the best way to broach the topic and just decided to voice his thoughts aloud.

"How come you both never visited?" he asked, and immediately silence fell. "I've never seen a picture of either of you, and it's clear you hate Father. Why come into our lives now?"

His grandparents exchanged a look before his grandfather cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "When you get older, there are some things in your life that make you pause and reconsider. One of those things we both regret is how little we've seen you."

 _Nonexistent, more like,_ Adrien thought. He poked at his food. "So you decided to come in and take me away from my father?" he asked in a small voice, not meeting their eyes.

"Adrien," his grandfather began in a gentle voice, "we watched on _live television_ how that akuma targeted your father. How he broke into your home and dragged Gabriel down to the studio. What would he have done if he stumbled across you in the process?"

 _Try to take my Miraculous,_ Adrien thought wryly as his grandfather explained himself with a patience he had never seen on his own father.

His grandfather continued. "Our research showed this was not the first time your father's actions have made him a target or put you into danger. When your father ignored his court summons, we knew we had to act to get you out of that toxic environment."

For the second time, Adrien had a brief, horrible thought that he might actually _not_ go back home. "But this is all just temporary, right?" he asked, struggling to voice his fears. "I'll be going back with Father in a few weeks, right?" _Why would my father ignore an official court order like that? Does he really not want me around?_

His grandfather took a deliberate sip from his drink before answering. "That's up to the judge. His decision is final." But the way he said that made Adrien wonder if his grandfather already knew what the outcome would be. He swallowed hard against the sudden lump that formed in his throat.

"Ah, speaking of which, you're not to have contact with your father while you are here," his grandfather said.

While Adrien refrained from commenting on the fact that he never had contact with his father anyway, he wondered what his grandfather meant.

"The judge issued an order of no correspondence. If your father attempts to contact you in any way outside of the appointed court times, he could face serious repercussions."

Adrien still didn't know what his grandfather was getting at, so he continued to remain silent.

Hermine sighed. "I'll need your phone to ensure that you and your father obey the court order," he continued. Adrien's jaw dropped open. "I'm sorry, it's the judge's decision." He held out his hand.

"N-now?" Adrien spluttered. He hadn't even had time to text Nino... And how would he monitor the akuma attacks?

"I'm afraid so. I'll forget otherwise."

"But it's my phone," Adrien protested. "My father won't try to contact me. How will I talk to my friends?"

His grandfather gave him a wan smile. "You can still communicate with your friends. You could write them letters. I'll see to it they're delivered with the outgoing mail."

_Write letters? Was he kidding? Maybe I could have a pigeon deliver it too while I'm at it._

"I'll need that phone now, Adrien," his grandfather said, waving his fingers. Adrien recognized the finality in the tone that left no further room for argument. His shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yes, Grandfather," he mumbled. He reached into his pocket and turned off his phone, dropping it into his grandfather's hand with a heart full of lead. He couldn't help but feel as if his last lifeline was just severed.

"Now then," his grandfather said, securing Adrien's phone into his own pocket, "shall we taste your grandmother's wonderful cake?"

* * *

Marinette tapped her pen against her teeth as she stared at the empty seat in front of her as Ms. Bustier continued to flip through the slides projected on the overhead board. She knew she should be taking notes, but couldn't keep her mind off the absent blond.

"Girl," Alya hissed from beside her, "knock it off, will you? You're driving me crazy."

Marinette turned to her friend. "Where do you suppose Adrien is?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Alya rolled her eyes but shrugged anyway. "Photoshoot?"

Marinette shook her head. "He doesn't have another one until next week."

"Maybe his dad scheduled one," Alya suggested.

"Mr. Agreste never goes against his current schedule," Marinette protested. "If anything, he would _delay_ the photoshoot instead of moving it up. And he would never add in an additional one on such a last-minute notice."

Alya stared at her for a long moment. "Girl, seek professional help. Now you're stalking Adrien _and_ his dad?"

Marinette flushed bright red. "Alya!" she hissed. "Gabriel Agreste's schedule preferences are well-known in the fashion world. It's common knowledge to anyone who keeps up with the industry."

"If you say so," Alya replied, doubt clear in her voice.

"Says the girl who throws herself willingly into danger just for a picture of Ladybug in action," Marinette shot back.

"Hey, the public has a right to know how their resident superheroes protect them," Alya defended, folding her arms across her chest.

Marinette giggled, then turned it into a sigh as she looked at Adrien's empty seat.

"Maybe he's sick," Alya offered.

"I'm surprised Mr. Agreste would even allow that," Marinette said.

Alya grinned. "He probably wraps Adrien up in one of those bubble shields the moment he sniffles."

Marinette clamped a hand over her mouth to smother the burst of laughter that sprang forth at the vivid image of Adrien in such a suit, surrounded by stone-faced bodyguards. Unfortunately, their laughter caught the attention of their teacher.

"Marinette, Alya, is there something you would like to share with the class?" Ms. Bustier said, frowning at them.

"No, I'm sorry, Ms. Bustier," Marinette said.

"Actually," Alya began with a glint in her eye, "we were discussing Adrien's absence and Marinette was saying how she would be happy to deliver his work and notes to him."

Ms. Bustier pursed her lips but nodded after a moment. "That sounds perfectly reasonable. Good thinking. See me after class, Marinette. Now, may I ask you both to quiet down and pay attention to the lesson? You wouldn't want your notes to Adrien to be incomplete, would you?"

"No, of course not, Ms. Bustier," Marinette exclaimed. Both girls buried their heads in their work for the rest of the day.

After classes were dismissed, Chloé sauntered up to Marinette as she was packing up her bag. "I don't know why you're bothering," she said with a haughty sniff, flicking her ponytail back. "If Adrien misses any work, I'm sure Mr. Agreste brings in a tutor. You're wasting your time and you'll just get turned away at the gate."

"I won't know until I try, Chloé," Marinette replied. "But thank you for your concern."

With another sniff, Chloé departed with Sabrina in tow. Marinette walked up to Ms. Bustier, who handed her a small stack of papers with a smile.

"All of his assignments are listed on top," she explained. "Any information he might need is listed on the following pages, including references he could consult on his tablet."

"Thanks, Ms. Bustier," Marinette said, slipping the packet of papers securely into her bag.

She met up with Alya and Nino outside, the former of which wished her luck with a cheeky grin. Marinette rolled her eyes once more at her friend's antics and started off down the path to Adrien's house, breathing in the fresh air to calm her nerves. He only lived a few blocks away and soon she found herself staring up at the iron gates – still intimidating even though she had spent lots of time inside the house as Ladybug. She rang the bell. As expected, after a moment, the black and red optical camera zoomed out. Marinette resisted the urge to jump back as she had the first time the camera popped out at her.

"Yes?"

Marinette recognized the voice as the lady who usually handled most affairs for both Agrestes – Nathalie, she thought her name was.

"Uhm, I'm a classmate of Adrien's at school and since he wasn't in class today, I brought over his work." She held up the papers for the camera.

"Put it in the box."

"The box? Oh, right!" she exclaimed as part of the wall jutted out toward her. She slipped the papers in. The wall closed. "Thank you," Marinette said, "and please tell Adrien he-"

Her comment was cut off as the camera retracted without another word.

"-ello," Marinette finished in a mumble. She trudged away, hoping maybe she would see Adrien tomorrow.

As luck would have it, Adrien was absent the next day. And the day after. By now, Marinette had an entire novel's worth of possibilities as to his sudden absences – each one more outlandish than the last, much to the amusement of Alya. Still, the blogger wouldn't admit it, Marinette could tell she also worried for their mutual friend. Everyday, Marinette continued to diligently bring schoolwork over to the Agreste manor, never once deterred by the stilted reception she received. One day, she spotted the silhouette of Mr. Agreste observing her from one of the windows on the upper level. She refrained from either running away or marching back up to the gate and demanding to see Adrien. She measured her steps in deliberate paces, moving away at a steady pace.

On Friday, Marinette rang the bell as usual, placing Adrien's weekend work in the box. She turned to leave when Nathalie stopped her.

"Just a moment, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."

She jumped and turned back to the camera, briefly wondering how Nathalie knew her name. "Uh..." she began.

"Mr. Agreste wishes to speak with you. Please come in," she said. With a loud click, the gates opened. Marinette stepped inside. She forced herself to head straight for the front doors without delay and not linger to ogle the grounds, which she had rarely seen despite the many times she had been inside the manor. Upon walking up the stone steps, the front door opened and Nathalie waited for her at the top.

"This way," she said without preamble, turning and disappearing inside. The sound of her sharp heels clicking on the marble faded away. Marinette hesitated after a brief moment to exchange a look with Tikki, and the kwami beamed in encouragement at her. She hurried after Nathalie, her kwami giving her strength and courage.

Inside, she discovered Nathalie standing like a sentinel next to the door leading to Mr. Agreste's atelier. A room Marinette was most definitely familiar with – all those amazing pictures of Adrien. She shook herself out of her stupor. Mr. Agreste wouldn't like talking to a crushing schoolgirl.

"He's in through there," Nathalie said. Marinette entered, taking each step with uncertain hesitation. Nathalie closed the doors behind her with a quiet snap, though the sound still startled her, eliciting a small jump from the skittish girl. She spotted Mr. Agreste standing at the opposite end of the room. He studied her as she entered.

She didn't know what to say. After all, he was the one who requested to see her, so she remained silent and waited for him to speak first. She took the opportunity to study him in closer detail. What she saw shocked her.

To all but the most critical eyes, Gabriel Agreste appeared as poised and stoic as always. His hands clasped behind his back. His rigid posture. The slight frown upon his face that Marinette assumed was "normal tolerance" level for him. His immaculately pressed suit.

But months of masquerading as a superhero whose power relied upon keen observation plus keeping a constant lookout for akumas (and akumatized objects on said akumas) taught Marinette to pay _very_ careful attention to details. Even while outside the costume.

There were tight lines around his face that hadn't been there during the akuma attack a couple of months prior. Faint bags under his eyes. A more ashen sheen to his complexion. His hair ever-so-slightly disheveled; a faint wave rippled through it as if he had run his hand through his normally perfectly slicked back locks.

"Are you feeling okay, Mr. Agreste?" she blurted out in concern, then immediately gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth. So much for letting him talk first.

He merely narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, as if he hadn't expected her to say _that_ of all things.

"Yes," he said, carefully drawing out the word, "why do you think otherwise?"

She bit her lip as a cold sweat broke out over her body. "If you say you are feeling okay, it's not really my place to comment." Curse her and her impulsive tendencies!

"And I'm inquiring as to your thoughts," Mr. Agreste replied. "Indulge me."

She hesitated for the briefest of seconds, attempting to form her words into something that wouldn't immediately get her banned from the grounds. "You don't look well," she began, trying to figure out the most diplomatic way to voice her observations. " _You look like the icy fingers of death are creeping down your neck"_ _ **probably**_ wouldn't go over too favorably with him. He quirked an eyebrow and she continued. "And with Adrien out sick, I thought maybe you might have gotten the same kind of illness as him."

"What makes you think Adrien is sick?" Mr. Agreste asked, and Marinette thought she heard a bit of confusion in his voice.

"Isn't he?" she answered. At his pointed silence, she sighed. "He's been absent all week. He would have mentioned something last week if he was going to be out doing a long photoshoot."

Mr. Agreste didn't smile exactly, but his face relaxed. "And Adrien tells you these things?"

She nodded. "He's my friend," she insisted.

"Of course," he replied, but she heard no sarcasm in his tone, "only a true friend would bring his schoolwork by everyday without being allowed to see him."

There was a question lingering there but Marinette would not take the bait. She waited.

Mr. Agreste sighed – a soft, tired sigh that Marinette nearly missed. "I would like you to stop bringing over Adrien's schoolwork."

"Why?"

"He is not currently here."

"What?" she exclaimed, then blushed. "Uh, I mean, with all due respect, sir, where is he?"

"With his grandparents." Marinette couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw the lines around his eyes tighten. His lips pressed together. "They are currently overseeing his education with tutors while he... visits... with them. I would hate to see you keep wasting your time on a lost cause."

"How long is he going to be gone for?" she asked. "Uh, if that's not too much to ask, sir."

"A few more weeks," he answered.

Her chest felt like an akuma had punched her – in her civilian form. "A few... weeks?" she asked, unable to keep the shock from her voice.

"I understand this is concerning to you, but I must ask for your patience for a little longer." His face split into a rare grin – faint, yet clear. "It's refreshing to see my son has such loyal friends as you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."

"Thank you," she replied.

"But for now, unfortunately, I must take my leave of you. I have other engagements."

"Of course," she answered, still trying to process what he told her.

"Good day."

"Goodbye," she replied, and headed out through the door.

Outside, she leaned against the wall surrounding the house. "A few more _weeks_ , Tikki?" she exclaimed. "This is awful!"

Her kwami flew out from her purse and settled upon her shoulder. "Cheer up, Marinette. Maybe you can work on some of your designs. Then the weeks will go by so fast and he'll be back before you know it!"

Marinette smiled. "You're right, Tikki. I won't let myself mope around after Adrien. I'm going to design the best outfit for when he returns! It'll knock the socks off him!"

"That's righ— wait a second, that's not what I meant," Tikki cried.

Marinette ignored her as she took off in a run down the street, eager to get to designing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

When Adrien initially awoke on Monday, it was with a frustrated groan and a Chat-like urge to rebel and run away to school. Then, he remembered his father's parting words. His father didn't want him to act out. It would reflect poorly on Gabriel and might dissuade the judge from allowing him to go back to his home. So, with another frustrated sigh laced with a good bit of resentment, he rolled over off the bed and went to go start his day.

After a quick shower and a bite of Camembert for Plagg (in case there wasn't any at breakfast), Adrien carefully locked his room and headed in the direction of the kitchens, hoping to grab some breakfast before his tutor arrived. Luck was in his favor, as he entered the dining room he spotted his grandmother eating a pastry and sipping something out of a delicate ceramic cup.

"Good morning, Adrien, dear," she greeted, setting down her cup. "There's plenty of food in the kitchen for you. I wasn't sure what you liked to eat in the mornings, so I had the chef prepare a bunch of sample foods."

"I'm good with almost anything," he said. He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a small assortment of pastries, fruits, and yes, even a slice of Camembert for a joyful Plagg, who gobbled it up before he finished spreading jam on a croissant. Grabbing his plate of food and a drink, he headed back into the dining room and sat down across from his grandmother. "This is really good," he complimented as he bit into a tart.

"Thank you, dear," she said with a smile, pride shining in her face. "I enjoy baking so much. Your grandfather often complained that we had so many sweets all the time that I finally just started donating them to the nearby children's home."

"Huh?"

She motioned to the array of pastries on his plate. "Every Monday, I take whatever I've made over the weekend and bring it to the kids during the day. It gets me out of the house during the tour times and allows me to interact with the children there." Her expression grew wistful. "I really regret we allowed your family to grow so distant."

"Why did you?" Adrien tried to keep the resentment from his voice. He wanted some answers, and his grandmother might be the better option. He didn't want to alienate his most promising lead.

She sighed into her cup. "Oh, Adrien, if you don't know this by now, both sides of your family have immense pride. And stubbornness. And those are not two very good combinations when attempting to reconcile old arguments."

He knew that about his father, definitely, and he was starting to see that with his grandfather. "It's stupid though," he said instead.

"I agree. Your mother took after your grandfather," she said.

Adrien perked up. "She did?" He didn't know that.

His grandmother chuckled. "Of course. Gabriel is incredibly headstrong, as I'm sure you're aware. Do you really think that someone meek and mild would have won his heart so completely?"

"Uhm, to be honest I never really thought about it like that," Adrien admitted. Though it made sense. His mother could definitely hold her own against his father. He bit into a piece of melon as he mulled over what she just told him.

"Your grandfather was still so angry that your mother went against his wishes and married Gabriel. He refused to relent. To apologize. Even after you were born, he still held so much resentment. That faded, of course, with time. But he would never admit that he was wrong about your father. He always believed that Gabriel wasn't worthy of your mother. That he just wanted to use her family name to make a name for himself." She blinked hard against sudden tears. "Oh how wrong we were," she murmured. "We should have seen it even back then – the passion your father had for everything. His work, his designs, his love for your mother. A few years after being married, we started to see Gabriel's name whispered among the more couture of our colleagues within our inner circle. And of course, it didn't take long after that for his company to skyrocket to the prestige it holds today."

Adrien pushed his food around with his fork. "So why didn't you contact us then?" he asked.

His grandmother's expression crumbled, and Adrien swallowed hard, wondering if he shouldn't have pressed his luck. She sighed. "Oh, Adrien, dear, we wanted to. We really did. Your grandfather was so close to yielding to my requests and sending out an olive branch to your mother." Something in her statement stilled his hand. He focused entirely on her. "Then your mother vanished."

His heart plummeted. "Oh," he said in a small voice.

"Your grandfather reverted back to his old self. He blamed Gabriel – irrationally of course. He believed that if your mother hadn't married Gabriel that she never would have vanished. We spent so much money sending investigators after her. We never discovered anything."

"Father did the same," Adrien said in a quiet voice, his hand trembling.

"I know, dear," she said. "Our investigators told us that much as well. Your grandfather was inconsolable; wracked with guilt. We both were. We didn't know who to blame. We wouldn't admit we were partly at fault, so we turned our grief back on the easiest person to blame: your father."

"So why now?" Adrien was trying really hard not to let his bitterness tinge his voice.

"It's as your grandfather explained earlier, dear. We're not getting younger. Your grandfather had a bit of a health scare a few months ago. It made him – it made us both, really – reconsider our priorities in life. We wish to get to know you."

"But you don't want to get to know Father?"

His grandmother averted her eyes. "I would love to," she said, a bit sadly, "but I am not foolish enough to believe such a naive dream. I know that our relationship with your father has progressed well beyond the point of reconciliation. I am hoping that our relationship with you has not."

Despite himself, Adrien offered a warm smile at his grandmother. "I'm willing to try," he said.

She returned the smile. "Me, too, dear."

To his surprise, the week flew by in a flash – filled with horseback riding, pastries, and family evenings together. He had convinced his tutor to follow the course syllabus at Collège Franҫois Dupont so he wouldn't get too far behind the rest of his classmates. He often ate breakfast with his grandmother. His grandfather spent a lot of time outdoors tending to the stables and the horses inside in the early morning hours. It was one of his passions, his grandmother explained.

"What can you tell me about my mother?" he asked his grandmother one morning, holding his breath in anticipation as he bit into a warm croissant.

She sighed, blowing steam off of her cup of tea. She stared at something in the distance, her eyes losing focus. "What would you like to know?" she asked him.

"She didn't tell me much about her childhood," Adrien said. "I guess I can understand now why she was hesitant, but... what was she like when she was my age?"

His grandmother chuckled. "She loved to explore this old house. Her bedroom was on the other side of the house, near our rooms. Sometimes though, we would discover her over in the wing by your bedroom, covered in dirt and dust and her face glowing like she just had the biggest secret in the world to share. She took after her father, you know," his grandmother added.

Adrien remained silent, hoping not to break the tender calm.

She took a sip of tea and continued. "Yvette loved the outdoors. She spent hours riding those horses and vanishing down the trails. She could walk into a room and just light up from the joy of seeing different people dressed up. She had quite the eye for details. I suppose she balanced out your father that way."

Balanced out? Adrien didn't know if anything could balance out his stuffy father. Gabriel was notorious for his eye for detail and sharp tongue when criticizing said details. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Oh your father often had his head in the clouds. He could see the massive picture but could never look beyond the generalization. Your mother taught him how to notice the finer details. She taught him to narrow his focus when necessary."

Maybe that explained why his father was so diligent when he picked apart seemingly insignificant details – such details that had propelled his brand to success because of his attention to the quality of his work. He thought that perhaps his father always had been a bit on the anal side, but to know that his mother was the one that grounded him initially... He blinked away the prickling sensation in his eyes. Time to change the subject.

"So what are you planning to bake today?"

He spent the afternoons either helping his grandmother bake or riding horses with his grandfather. Thanks to his Chat Noir agility, he picked up on that rather quickly and was soon trotting around the grounds with an excited glee as his grandfather watched with a smile. They often would ride out in the woods behind the estate, exploring the different hiking and riding trails together. Adrien loved it. He could never imagine doing this with his father.

"Now that you know one of my biggest hobbies," his grandfather said one afternoon, "what are some of yours?"

"Mine?"

"Your interests," his grandfather prompted, leading his horse down a trail. "Gabriel _does_ allow you to have interests, right?"

"Yes, of course," Adrien said, struggling to adopt the ease his grandfather had on his horse. He mostly succeeded. "I really like fencing. I'm one of the best fencers in my school. We've won a lot of competitions."

"Fencing? That's quite an accomplishment." His grandfather smiled.

"I also like video games," Adrien added.

"As I'm sure do most teenagers," his grandfather said with a chuckle.

Adrien laughed with him. "My school won a gaming tournament recently. It was amazing to watch. I loved being there to cheer on my classmates. It was such a rush to be there as we won. The entire stadium celebrated with us."

His grandfather smiled as Adrien relived the memory.

"Anything else?"

Adrien's thoughts turned to his alter ego, and naturally to his partner. He hoped he wasn't blushing. "I do have a little thing for bugs," he said, resisting the urge to smirk in a very Chat-like manner at the hidden meaning behind his words.

"Oh?" his grandfather prompted. "Our historical flower gardens attract many kinds of insects. Many species of butterflies make it their home."

Adrien blanched. "Erm, well not butterflies," he amended hastily, hoping his voice didn't betray the shudder that ran through him. "Mostly just ladybugs," he said.

"Those are quite common around here as well."

He supposed they were. Just not the particular kind of ladybug he really wanted to see.

He slowly gained more confidence riding his horse during the long afternoons until he felt practically at ease riding down the trails.

Baking, however, was another story.

"Adrien, dear, I believe the goal is to get the flour in the bowl, not around the kitchen," his grandmother chided with a fond smile as another puff of flour rose from the bowl.

"I'm trying," he insisted, jamming the stirrer into the batter with a bit more force than necessary. Another cloud of flour floated up. It tickled his nose. He sneezed. The bowl slipped from its precarious position in the crook of his arm. "Augh!" he cried, his hand shooting out on reflex. He snagged the lip of the bowl before it smashed to the ground. "Phew," he sighed.

"Wow, that was amazing," his grandmother gushed, clapping her flour-covered hands and creating her own little puffs of white in the air.

He had forgotten his grandmother was still in the kitchen. "Oh, haha," he said, rubbing the back of his head as his brain raced for a suitable excuse. "It's my karate and fencing training. Good reflexes."

She beamed another smile at him. "Well, I would say you saved yourself from making quite a mess, but..." she looked around at the flour-covered kitchen, "it appears we've already done that here."

She didn't look angry, so Adrien relaxed a bit. He chuckled as he looked around at the dirty kitchen. She joined in and soon they both dissolved into loud peals of laughter.

At night after dinner they played games or watched a movie. The evenings were filled with giggles and over-the-top victory dances (all courtesy of Adrien and his Chat Noir persona). He reveled in the presence of his grandparents. But the closeness with them only amplified the ache he felt when he thought about his father. He missed his dad. Even when his father forgot a school event or skipped dinner or was buried in his work in the office, he missed the feeling that his father was always within reach. It was hard for him to sleep at night. Adrien never realized what a comforting presence it had been just knowing he was somewhere in the house.

The ache didn't fade as the week went on. So despite the whirlwind of the previous week, when Saturday arrived, he woke up that morning excited for the day. Today, he would be seeing his father for the first time since he left his home. He wondered if his father would actually show up in person, or if he would just send Nathalie with a tablet while he squeezed in his obligatory visit with Adrien in between other meetings and work. He realized he honestly didn't even care. He couldn't wait to see his father again so badly that he was even willing to accept a tablet teleconference with him. He bounced in place as he messed with his hair.

"Should I wear a suit, Plagg?" he asked as he combed and parted his fringe for the hundredth time that morning.

"I didn't think you brought one," the kwami replied, piping up from where he had curled up on the foot of the bed, a shredded Camembert wrapper acting as a pillow.

Realizing Plagg was right, Adrien deflated. "Oh, yeah." His hands fiddled with his shirt.

"Relax, kid. Your dad's probably going to show up and leave before you have time to say two words to him."

"Yeah," Adrien admitted, his fingers dropping to his sides. The vibrant atmosphere dulled in an instant. Plagg sensed the change of mood.

"Hey, Adrien, that doesn't mean your father won't be happy to see you," Plagg said, floating up from his spot on the bed and hovering over by the mirror.

As expected, Adrien perked back up. "Really?"

"Of course. Your father is so overprotective I'm sure this is the first time you've been out of his reach for longer than a day."

Adrien chuckled, knowing that his kwami was correct. "You know, I believe you might be right."

"Course I am," Plagg said, folding his arms with a defiant toss of his head. "Let's get going. I want some Camembert before meeting with your dad."

"Sure thing, Plagg," Adrien said, opening his shirt so the kwami could fly into his pocket.

After breakfast (and a whole wheel of Camembert for Plagg), Adrien waited in his room with barely concealed impatience, pacing up and down on the rug-covered floor. When the shadow of a car pulling up filtered through the windows, Adrien ran up and peered through the glass, watching as his father stepped out of the car and regarded the house with a sour expression on his face.

"He doesn't look so well," Adrien remarked. "I wonder if something's happened."

Plagg flew up on his shoulder and peered at Gabriel. "Well, kid," he said after a moment of silent observation, "if you want my advice, don't add to your father's worries."

"Huh?" Adrien glanced at his kwami. "What do you mean?"

"I mean don't tell him how much you miss him and how much you really want to go back home."

"But I do!"

"I know that. And you know that. And there's nothing your father can do about it right now until the judge convenes in a few weeks, right?"

"Okay," Adrien said slowly, still not quite grasping what the kwami was getting at.

"So why worry your father? He needs to focus on his own work so the judge won't rule against him. If he worries that you're miserable here, he'll get distracted."

"I'm not _miserable_ here," Adrien protested.

Plagg snorted. "Kid, I've seen you mope in your room at night when you don't think I'm watching."

Adrien turned and sagged against the wall as his grandfather went out to meet Gabriel. "I really do miss my dad," he admitted. "And my friends. And school. But... I also miss the feeling I used to get when Mom was still here. When my dad would come in my room and give me his rejected sketches to color. When he would tell stories of the day on the runway, filled with accidents and mistakes but somehow – miraculously – everything always turned out perfect. I miss how Mom used to sneak sweets into the house and Father would shoot her this disapproving look. But then I would catch him stealing cookies in the kitchen and he would bribe me with one to keep quiet from Mom."

Plagg shot him an incredulous look. Adrien sighed again, sliding down on the floor. "I miss the feeling of being a family. And this week was the first time in a long time I felt that way again."

"So you don't want to go back with your dad?" Plagg clarified. "Just tell him that."

"No!" Adrien exclaimed, shooting up from the floor. "I do! More than anything! I just..." he trailed off with a sigh. "Is it selfish of me to wish that I could have both? That my dad and I could go back to how things were when Mom was around?"

Plagg floated up and nuzzled Adrien's neck. "No, Adrien, it's not selfish at all. But if you want your dad to not be distracted by you, you need to show him how happy you are. That will get him relaxed so he can work better on getting back with you permanently."

Adrien nodded to Plagg. "You're right."

A knock on his door prevented Plagg from replying. "Adrien?" his grandfather said. "Your father's here to see you."

"Coming, Grandfather," he called out. He cupped Plagg one last time and whispered a thanks to the kwami before Plagg darted back into his shirt.

* * *

Gabriel stared up at the enormous house, recalling with disdain how he often gazed up in wonder at it whenever he went to call upon Yvette. As a budding designer, he used to always adore the house – the magnificent grandeur and the extravagant elegance. But the memories of never quite being good enough for the occupants drove him away from the classic style and into his more modern take on a house. Still, he almost wished some part of him didn't instinctively shudder whenever he saw Yvette's childhood home.

Somewhere in that house, his son was waiting. He closed his eyes, only to open them as he heard someone approach.

"Hermine," he said with a curt nod.

"Good morning, Gabriel," his father-in-law said.

"How's Adrien?" he asked.

Hermine smiled and Gabriel was a bit taken aback at the soft joy radiating from him. "He's a treasure," he answered. His eyes sharpened and the brief moment of tenderness vanished. "He's enjoying himself out here. The fresh air and exercise is doing wonders for him."

Gabriel didn't bite at the implication of those words. "As thrilling as our talk is, I believe I came to visit with my son."

"Of course. Do come in. I'll go fetch him."

Hermine led the way into the house, and it was just as breathtaking as he remembered the first time he had stepped a timid foot inside, nearly two decades prior. Hermine left Gabriel in one of the side rooms and vanished down a long hallway, presumably to where Adrien was. The fashion mogul took a moment in the silence to compose himself, staring absently at a painting of some kind of family gathering in a garden for a party.

"Father?"

The tentative greeting shook Gabriel from his stupor. He turned, his heart leaping as his eyes landed upon Adrien. He stood there for a long moment, studying every inch of his son as if it might be the last time he ever saw him.

"Father?"

The second greeting was a bit hesitant and laced with uncertainty. Adrien's face clouded and his shoulders slumped. Gabriel stepped forward until he stood beside Adrien and wordlessly wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He pulled away after a moment.

"How are you?" he asked, his mind racing for something to say.

Adrien beamed at him. "Great!" he exclaimed. "Wait until I show you the stables! Grandfather has been giving me riding lessons. I'm doing really well."

Riding lessons. Was that all it took to make him happy?

"I would like that," he said instead.

He trailed behind Adrien as his son showed him around the estate – an estate that he was only vaguely familiar with from his time dating Yvette. He never had much of a chance to really explore; never fully welcome inside the home. He allowed himself to be led to the stables, smiling as Adrien pointed out his favorite horse. He listened as Adrien chattered on about how he had learned to bake.

"Though I'm not nearly as good as Marinette," he added, "at least now I don't destroy the kitchen."

Gabriel thought briefly of telling Adrien that said friend stopped by everyday on her way home from school. He decided against it. After all, it didn't appear that Adrien _missed_ his friend. He only mentioned her name in passing as a measurement to his skills. Adrien continued rambling in excitement as he pointed out little details about the grounds, regaling his father with some significant historical tidbit or other important fact.

Once, Gabriel shocked him with his own personal trivia point. Adrien gaped up at him for a moment before the designer chuckled at his expression.

"Your mother told me that fact the very first time I saw this place," he explained. "It's not something I'll ever forget."

Propelled by that information, Adrien all but grabbed his father's hand and tore off down the path to the flower garden. Even Gabriel's long strides had trouble keeping up with his son's enthusiasm. As Adrien darted between the different bushes, Gabriel slowed a moment and recalled his own time in these gardens.

With Yvette.

He blinked, and the scene shifted in front of him. It was no longer the pebbled paths drenched in warm sunlight with his son bounding across them but rather the soft twilight glow from when he and his future wife enjoyed the warm summer air, thick with the cloying smell of blooming roses and the faint buzzing of bumblebees.

He had spread out his threadbare jacket on the ground in the middle of a bunch of rosebushes and they both sat on it, huddled close together to avoid the dirt. Hidden from the pebbled path and possible interruptions, they shared a small soda – one Gabriel had smuggled in his pocket – and breathed in the sweet aroma as they laughed and talked and Gabriel realized in that moment he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

That was before her father forbade him from seeing her.

Before Yvette defied her father's orders.

Before things degraded and her parents grew estranged.

Adrien's blond head popped back into his sight and he snapped himself out of the past.

He had won against Hermine all those years ago and married the love of his life, the woman who made his entire soul sing.

Was this fate's cruel twist that he would lose Adrien in the same place he gained his wife?

He reflected back on how much healthier and happier Adrien appeared to be here. Hermine was right; the fresh air was doing the boy wonders. His cheeks developed a ruddy blush as he laughed and ran through the pathways, gulping in breaths of clean air. His eyes sparkled. His golden hair glowed in the sunlight. The artist inside wanted to take out his phone and snap a dozen pictures for his portfolio.

The father in him wanted those same pictures for remembrance.

Instead, he just stood and watched as Adrien guided him around the estate, tuning out most of the explanations and trivia and just tried to focus on the feeling of being with his little boy. _Not so little anymore_ , he thought with a rueful shake of his head. Where had the time gone? He hoped the churning sensation in his stomach was due to nervousness about seeing Adrien again and not the nagging doubt that told him this may be the last time he saw his son.

Adrien turned another corner on the pathway. Gabriel stepped forward to follow, but was distracted by a purplish-bluish butterfly hovering nearby. He paused and held out his hand. The butterfly landed on the tip of his finger. He stood motionless as to not frighten it away, watching it with a gentle smile. The wings fanned in a lazy flutter. Adrien came back around the corner after noticing Gabriel didn't follow. He stopped when he saw his father with his hand outstretched and the butterfly resting on the end of his finger. After a few seconds, it rose and fluttered off toward a bright pink flower.

"Your mother loved butterflies," was all Gabriel said to Adrien as he covered the distance between them in two strides. Adrien's expression faltered for a moment. Gabriel settled one hand upon his shoulder. "You said there were a few nature trails you wanted to show me?"

And just like that, Adrien's face lit up with glee as he pointed to a copse of trees in the distance.

"Yeah, one starts over there," he exclaimed. The elder designer pushed away his melancholic thoughts and forced himself to spend the rest of his short visitation time paying attention to his son and not drowning in nostalgia.

But all too soon, Gabriel found himself standing back in the drawing room, giving Adrien his final goodbyes. He briefly debated hugging his son, but settled for an awkward gripping of the shoulders. He stared down at Adrien, noting his smiling and hopeful face. He swallowed his own despair. Adrien was happy.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself here," Gabriel said.

Adrien nodded. "You don't have to worry about me, Father," he assured him.

Gabriel nodded back at him in agreement. "I see that. Well, goodbye, Adrien."

"Bye, Father."

He missed the way Adrien's shoulders slumped the moment he entered the hallway. He missed how his bright smile fell when he was out of sight. Gabriel closed his eyes, missing the final backwards glance that Adrien threw at him, his son's eyes filled with longing and sadness. Gabriel turned to leave, erroneously believing Adrien was truly happy without him.

And it shattered him.

Outside, Hermine met with him before he left. "Leaving so soon?" he asked.

Gabriel refrained from sniping back with a scathing retort. "Yes," he said. Hermine didn't deserve the courtesy of an explanation. He would probably find fault in anything Gabriel said. He ducked to get into the car.

Hermine held out one hand to stop him. "He's happy here, Gabriel," Hermine said. "Don't let an old grudge get in the way of what's best for your son."

Gabriel frowned and shook off Hermine's hand, getting into the car and slamming the door shut without another word. But the entire drive back, his thoughts were consumed with Adrien's joyful descriptions of his activities and Hermine's final remarks. Was Adrien truly better off without him? His grandparents doted on him, showering him with affection Gabriel hadn't given in a long time. Much too long. He could feel the divide between them – a stiffness and formality that somehow seemed to just appear overnight. But Gabriel knew it was built up from months of him not being there for his son. He wondered if it was too late to start to make amends.

He wondered if he should just give up entirely.

He mulled over that final thought for a long time, watching the trees dissolve back into city buildings and cars zipping past on the road. With a long, deep sigh, he pulled out his tablet and made the hardest decision of his life.

"Nathalie?" he asked, after pulling up her contact on his list and calling her.

"Sir?" she inquired.

"Contact my lawyers," he said. "I am going to stop fighting for Adrien. I have seen how much happier he is here without me."

Nathalie's expression cracked as she stared at him in shock, before shaking off her emotions and returning to her professional stance. "Certainly, sir, but if I may say so, I believe you're making a big mistake. I know how much Adrien looks up to you."

Gabriel sighed. "Perhaps. But he needs his family. And I'm not delusional enough to believe that includes me anymore." He ended the call before she could retort and spent the remainder of the trip staring out of the window, lost in happier memories of a time with Adrien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the trickiest (so far) to edit. Which explains why it went from about 3300 words to 5k+ words. A very special thank you to PerditaAlottachocolate for suffering through many, MANY readthroughs of this chapter alone and providing invaluable advice on the structure, flow, and content of this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"Adrikins!"

The shrill cry almost made him wince – it certainly elicited a shudder from Plagg – but Adrien turned to the voice with a smile.

"Chloé," he said, genuinely happy to see his friend. The first to arrive, in fact, from his school. He knew that was in part due to his grandfather's old-fashioned disdain for people outside of his social circle and also partly due to the busy week he had. Chloé made the cut, being the daughter of the mayor. Adrien didn't even try to talk to him about Nino. "How are you?" he asked as she ran up to him and flung her arms around him. He refrained from pushing away and instead returned the hug, realizing that he actually _did_ miss his friends.

"I've missed you at school," she cooed, snuggling into his neck. He grimaced and gently but firmly pulled away from her grasp. "How have you been? Class just hasn't been the same without you there."

He bit his lip and glanced around. "Let me show you around the grounds," he said, deflecting her question. He didn't want to be overheard by his grandparents.

"Sure thing, Adrien," she said, wrapping around his arm. He led her out to the gardens, hazarding a guess she might not want to be in the stables. He smirked, already imagining her shriek of protest at the thought of walking around the horses. Which was a shame, because he really wanted to tell someone about his progress with horseback riding. Someone other than his father. Smothering a sigh, he reached the edge of the gardens and allowed a small smile to form at Chloé's gasp of astonishment.

"It's gorgeous, Adrien!" she exclaimed, most likely the first genuine compliment he ever heard from her that didn't involve a comparison to something her own father could do.

He guided her through the pathways, pointing out the various flowers and ignoring her not-so-subtle attempts at dropping hints that he should give her one. "Chloé," he explained at last, "I don't think my grandfather would appreciate me picking flowers out of the historical gardens."

She frowned, harrumphed, and pouted, but finally let it drop. "When are you going to come back to school?" she asked instead. "I've missed you."

All of the excitement at seeing his friend drained out of him. He dropped down on the nearest bench and stared at the ground. Chloé, sensing the sudden change, sat down beside him. "I don't know," he admitted. "My grandfather thinks that public schooling is unbecoming of me, his grandson. He's brought in private tutors."

She gasped. "But what about your father? He's the one who agreed to send you to school in the first place," she pointed out.

Adrien stared off in the distance for a long moment, focusing on a bee taking flight between two roses. "Chloé," he said at last, turning to her. "This cannot go beyond us. I'm trusting you with a big secret here. I don't want the tabloids to find out."

Chloé sobered in an instant – almost as if a light switch had been flicked. "Adrien, you have my word." She sat up and locked her blue eyes solemnly with his.

He glanced around, once more affirming their privacy in the stillness of the flowers, then leaned in. "My grandfather somehow got a judge to agree that my father was an unfit parent."

"What?" Chloé screeched.

"Shh!" Adrien admonished, sweeping his eyes around the garden, frantic and panicked.

Chloé covered her mouth, her eyes sending an apology to Adrien even as guilt creased her face. "Sorry," she said.

"It's okay," he reassured her, his heart rate gradually returning to normal once he realized no one heard them. "Anyway, my father has a court date in three weeks, but I'm supposed to live here until then. I can't even text anyone because I'm not supposed to have contact with my father. My grandfather took away my cell phone."

Chloé crossed her arms and flicked back her ponytail with a snap of her neck. "Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. You're expected to stay out of school for three more weeks? Without your phone?"

"I convinced my tutor to follow the school's syllabus, so I can fit right back in." Adrien hunched over again and Chloé turned with a frown. He whispered the next part so low Chloé had to lean close to listen, almost as if he was too afraid speaking it aloud would make it come true. "But... I don't know if my father's going to win."

"Of course he will," Chloé replied, snapping upright, her back straight with utter confidence.

Despite himself, Adrien had to smile at her poise. It fell after a few seconds. "My grandfather is pretty persistent. My father would never have let it get this far if he had a choice. I saw him yesterday – during our court-appointed visitation schedule. He looked horrible. I don't think he's gotten much sleep since this started."

Chloé's face softened. "A good night's rest does wonders for the complexion," she said, tilting her head in thought and leaning back against the bench. Adrien nearly yelled at her to take this seriously when she continued with, "If your father is losing enough sleep to affect his perfect presence, then I think you're correct: he might not feel that he can win."

Adrien blinked. "That's... surprisingly perceptive," he praised.

She offered a tiny smirk. "Of course. I get a good night's sleep every night, so I am well versed on the effects of sleep deprivation on the body." She tapped one perfectly manicured nail against her cheek. "What did you tell him yesterday?"

Another sigh. "I didn't want to worry him more. I told him all of the good things I enjoyed here."

"And you didn't tell him that you missed him?" She leveled a look at him. "You _do_ miss him, right?"

"Of course!" Adrien couldn't believe she would ask that.

"Just making sure," she said. "I didn't know if you just missed going to school. Because I could try to talk to your grandfather about that, if that was the only reason you wanted to go back to living with your father."

"No!" Adrien exclaimed, fire coming into his eyes for the first time that morning, "I miss my father! I want to go back home. I..." he slumped again, the fire dulling, "I just miss being a family. But I don't want to leave my father. I wish he could see that I just want _him_ to be happy too."

"You need to tell your father that you really want to live with him," Chloé insisted. "You're worried about causing him more stress but he needs to know that he has a reason to fight for you. If he gives up, all is lost."

Adrien had never seen Chloé so adamant about anything outside of shopping, being pampered, or her own personal goals. To watch her exude that much energy toward someone else warmed him. He didn't know what to say. Except agree with her. "You're right," he said. "I'll tell him the next time I see him that I miss being at home."

"Not soon enough," she replied, her body tense with determination. "He'll lose out on a whole week of planning if what you say is true. Then that only leaves two weeks to form a proper defense."

He chuckled despite the situation. "I'm sure my father has a dozen lawyers working on this case. I wouldn't worry about the timing."

She gave him an incredulous look, but didn't protest. It was a good thing, too, because Adrien spotted his grandfather heading toward them.

"I'm afraid it's time for Miss Bourgeois to leave," he said as he approached.

Adrien stood, turning to give Chloé one last hug. She brushed him aside, much to his surprise, and turned to his grandfather.

"Mr. Eclat, you have to let Adrien return to school," she said.

His heart plummeted to his stomach. His grandfather raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "And why is that, young lady?" The tone of his voice was one Adrien had heard many times coming from his father. Laced with disapproval and a good dose of irritation, it clearly screamed _back off_. Chloé either ignored it or didn't get the subtle hint. At this point, Adrien wasn't entirely certain Chloé understood vocal nuances.

"Chloé," he interrupted, attempting to stave off an impending disaster, "it's okay, really."

"No, Adrien, it's not," she said. She turned back to his grandfather. "Adrien has been attending school since the beginning of the year, and has made several friends. It's vital he be allowed to continue learning with them."

Adrien held his breath. His grandfather frowned. "He can make friends within his social circle here. Public school is unacceptable."

"But..."

"No 'buts', young lady," his grandfather said, cutting her off. "Adrien, say goodbye to your friend. It's time she left."

"How dare you!"

Uh oh. Adrien froze. Chloé stamped her foot and marched over to his grandfather. She got right up in his face and pointed at him. "Do you know who my father is?"

Oh boy.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," his grandfather replied. Adrien almost shivered at the ice in his voice. "Mayor, correct?"

"That's right, and when he hears ab-"

"I assure you, young lady, that your father's influence is minimal at best with me. I believe you don't know who _I_ am. I suggest you do your research before attempting to flaunt your father's name." His grandfather glanced back to him. "Adrien, see your friend out. I think it's best if she does not return. Ever."

With that, he continued down the path. Adrien gulped and turned to Chloé. She stared after his grandfather with a mixture of outrage and bafflement, as if she wasn't used to getting her way. Which come to think of it, Adrien couldn't really remember a time when using her father's name had ever backfired on her.

What is it with his family banning his friends from seeing him anyway?

With a dejected sigh, he motioned to Chloé. "You better leave."

"Adrien, I..." she cut off with something akin to remorse on her face. "I'm so sorry," she said in a quiet voice. "I didn't mean to make things worse."

He swallowed and plastered a smile on his face. He had never seen Chloé look so downtrodden. "It'll be okay," he assured her. "It was good seeing you regardless. Tell everyone in class I said hi, would you? And uh, if you see my father, maybe tell him I miss him?"

A small smile appeared on her lips as she met his eyes. "I'll tell the class, but you have to be the one to tell your father, okay?"

He nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

A slim, well-manicured hand slammed down onto Marinette's desk. She stifled a shriek and jumped. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng," the haughty voice of Chloé sneered. She looked up at the blonde staring down at her.

Marinette deflated with a groan and a sigh. Alya glared up at her. "Do you mind? We were in the middle of a conversation," her friend said, not bothering to hid her obvious annoyance.

Chloé tossed her head, ignoring Alya. "I propose a truce," she said.

Silence.

Marinette exchanged a baffled look with Alya. "Uhm, a truce on what?" she asked.

"Our mutual hatred for each other."

Alya chuckled. "I'm pretty sure you can't call truce on feelings," she pointed out.

Normally, Chloé would have retorted with another insult, but she ignored Alya once more. "It's about Adrien," she said.

Marinette stiffened. She had just finished telling an incredulous Alya (and an eavesdropping Nino) about her encounter with Mr. Agreste on Friday, complete with his request to have her stop bringing over work and the true reason behind Adrien's absences. Now, Chloé comes in with a shocking offer to set aside their differences for Adrien?

"Uhm," she began, a bit hesitant in her approach, "what do you mean?"

"He's _miserable_ ," Chloé exclaimed, all but blurting it out in a whine. "We have to do something."

"We?" Alya interjected, folding her arms in disbelief. Marinette frowned and thought for a moment. While she normally would have dismissed Chloé's outburst as overexaggeration, after her short talk with Mr. Agreste, she couldn't help but wonder what Chloé knew about the situation. And a small part of her wondered if maybe the blonde girl was correct...

"Okay," she said, cutting across Alya's objections. "What do you have in mind?"

"Meet me in the library after school," Chloé said. "I'll explain everything there."

Alya, ever the investigator, hunched over and glared at Chloé with her best evil eye. "If this is some kind of poorly concealed attempt at pranking my girl," she growled, the threat lingering unspoken.

"No prank," Chloé insisted. "I visited Adrien yesterday. It's important." With that, she went and sat down at her seat, studiously ignoring the three of them for the rest of the day.

After school, Marinette, Alya, and Nino headed to the library.

"I'm not letting you go in there by yourself," Alya had said when Marinette insisted on going alone. "I don't trust that girl."

"And Adrien's my bro," Nino added. "If she's telling the truth, I want to help him out."

So the three of them shuffled through the library, searching for Chloé. They found her in a corner, surrounded by books. She was reading a fashion magazine. Good to see some things were still consistent. She looked up and spotted them approaching.

"Oh there you are, it's about time," she huffed, setting the magazine aside. "I figured it would be all of you, so I got this bigger table."

Alya eyed the books on the table as she sat down across from the blonde. "What are all these books doing out?" she asked, picking up one labeled _Treaties Through the Ages_ and flipped through it.

Chloé shrugged. "They were on the table when I arrived. I'm not going to put them back." The unsaid _it's not my job_ was obvious in the way she sniffed at the scattered piles.

Alya rolled her eyes and set the book behind her on the cart. Nino and Marinette scooped up the rest and set them on the cart next to the others. Their space finally clear, they all took their seats. "Okay, Chloé," Alya said, "what's going on?"

"Adrien isn't living at home with his father," Chloé began. Marinette and Alya exchanged a look. Chloé narrowed her eyes. "Did you know this?"

"Mr. Agreste told me on Friday when I went to deliver Adrien's schoolwork," Marinette admitted. "He said that he's living with his grandparents right now."

The blonde leaned forward as if sharing a big secret. "That's not the whole story. I met with Adrien yesterday." She proceeded to explain their friend's situation.

"That's horrible!" Marinette exclaimed when she finished. "Mr. Agreste didn't say any of that to me." That earned her three sympathetic looks. "What?" she asked.

"Girl," Alya said, shaking her head, "why would Mr. Agreste tell _you_ that?"

"Oh." She frowned, realizing that Alya was correct. There was no reason for Mr. Agreste to share private, personal information with her. "What can we do about it?" She zeroed in on Chloé. "You didn't ask us to come here just to tell us this."

Chloé folded her arms. "Isn't it obvious? We need to help Mr. Agreste get Adrien back."

At this, Alya snorted. "Chloé, Mr. Agreste has lawyers that are _much_ more qualified at the legal aspects than we are."

Chloé slammed a hand down on the table. They jumped. "You don't get it, do you?" she exclaimed. "If Mr. Agreste could have gotten Adrien back right now, don't you think he would have?"

Marinette thought back to when she met with Mr. Agreste. His frayed posture, his exhausted aura... she nibbled on her lip as she mulled over their conversation. "I think you're right," she mused. She recalled his calm demeanor during the entire Simon Says akuma incident at his home, including immediately after she and Chat discovered him on the rooftop. "Mr. Agreste had," she trailed off and waved her hands as if physically plucking the right words out of the air to voice her thoughts, "this feeling of things spiraling out of his control. I've never seen him not act one hundred percent confident about _anything._ " _Even when his life was in danger,_ she thought wryly. "This was something new and quite frankly, a bit frightening." She looked at Alya and Nino. "Especially with what Chloé is telling us."

Nino pushed back his cap. "Okay, so what do we do about it? What can _we_ do that Mr. Agreste cannot?"

Chloé smirked. "We play dirty." She pulled up her phone and swiped a few times. "Sabrina's asking her father about the judge. I'll ask Daddy about him, too."

"We can't just focus upon the judge," Alya insisted. "If Adrien's father doesn't have valid legal grounds to plead his case, then it won't matter what judge sits on the bench, they'll always rule against him." She pulled out her notebook and scribbled a few things down on it. "I'll research custody laws. We need to know what we're getting ourselves into."

"Do you think you can do a better job than Mr. Agreste's lawyers?" Chloé asked, for once without any sarcasm – just genuine curiosity.

Alya's hand stilled. She looked up from her writing. "I don't know. I imagine they'll probably plan a better defense than I can ever dream. But if we're going to help Adrien, we need to know as much as possible. Maybe there will be something we can think of that's outside the box. We should at least know how this process is going to work. And what are the obstacles that lie in our way."

"I'll help with that, too," Nino quickly added. "I have a cousin who studied law. He can give us some of his books and maybe point us in the right direction and answer a lot of our questions. He can also tell us how to navigate city hall for the court records."

"What can I do?" Marinette asked.

Three pairs of eyes swiveled to her.

She gulped. "What did I say?" she asked.

Chloé chuckled. "You're going to be our liaison to Mr. Agreste."

"What?" Marinette all but shrieked. It was a good thing they were tucked away in the back corner of the library or she had a sneaky suspicion they would have been kicked out by now.

Alya and Nino nodded with Chloé. "Girl, you're our class representative. You know how to talk to people in authority."

She was not convinced. "Chloé has lived around people in authority her whole life. If anyone is good about talking to people like that, it's her."

The attention shifted back to Chloé. The girl glared at them. "No way," she declared.

"Why not?"

Something flickered on her face. She continued glaring at the three of them. Alya opened her mouth, but Chloé cut in first. "Fine!" she said, "Adrien's grandfather banned me from their grounds," she announced. She refused to meet their eyes. "I don't want to get into the same situation with Mr. Agreste."

"Wow," Nino mumbled. "That's not something I think I can claim I have ever seen."

"So you want _me_ to risk acquiring Mr. Agreste's wrath?" Marinette protested. "He'll not only ban me from ever going in his home, but he'll probably blacklist me from the fashion industry. It will ruin my chances of following my dream to become a designer. Thanks a lot, Chloé." She folded her arms in a pout.

"No way, that's not my intention," Chloé insisted, sincerity shining in her eyes. "Mr. Agreste already likes you because of your designs. Plus, he's talked to you before under an impromptu meeting and you came out of it without being banned." Her gaze slid over to Nino. "That's more than some of us can say."

"She's right," he said. "Mr. Agreste can be brutal but you survived." He leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "That's already two steps ahead of the rest of us."

Alya patted her shoulder. "Girl, you have a way with words. Plus, you have a backbone when you put it to use. Mr. Agreste won't be able to walk over you."

_I only have that backbone because I've talked to him as Ladybug,_ Marinette thought, her mind flashing back to that fateful day. Even then, corralling Mr. Agreste had been an exercise in patience. He hadn't even listened to their suggestions and recommendations in the end. What good did she, a non-transformed superhero have when her heroic counterpart couldn't even dent his stubbornness?

Oddly, it was Chloé who pushed her into taking that risk. "It's for Adrien," she said. "Won't you at least try?"

Marinette glanced at each of their faces – hopeful and determined. She nodded. "Okay, fine. Yes, I'll talk to him," she said, and the three beamed at her. Nino threw up a hand in victory. "But," she paused, dampening their sudden enthusiasm, "I'm not going in blind again. That was a nightmare. We need a plan of action before we can even think of approaching him."

Chloé stood. "Well, what are we waiting for? I'll go talk with Daddy and Sabrina and let you all know what we discover." She tucked her magazine into her bag, turned to leave, and hesitated a moment before turning back around and facing them.

"For Adrien," she said with a decisive nod.

"For Adrien," Marinette agreed with a warm smile.

And with the barest hints of a smile upon her own face, Chloé pivoted back around and sauntered out of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my least favorite chapter, but a necessary one to set up for what happens in the future (I just found it incredibly boring to write).
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support! And thanks to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) for proofing, idea-plotting, and making this entire story much better.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

"Okay, what do we have so far?" Alya asked, opening her notebook at the table and pulling out her tablet. They had all convened the next afternoon in the library. Sabrina even joined them, sitting on the other side of Chloé with her tablet on the desk and her stylus poised and ready to take notes.

"The judge is a big problem," Chloé began. "I asked Daddy who was in charge of Adrien's case and he gave me a name. I passed it onto Sabrina."

She looked to the redhead. Sabrina nodded, picking up her cue to speak. "I asked my father about him." She sighed. "He visibly _grimaced_ when he heard it. Turns out that judge is easily influenced, and not just with honeyed words and vague threats."

"Bribery?" Alya prompted, her eyes lighting up at this morsel of information.

Sabrina shrugged. "My father seems to think so. He says that Judge Malin Corrompu is a pushover."

Marinette flopped down on the table, scattering the notes in a flurry of white. She eyed them as they floated to the ground, making no move to pick them up. "Wouldn't that be good for us?" She tilted her head to Chloé. "Couldn't your father do something?"

The expression on Chloé's face – a foreign mask of regret – answered Marinette's question before the blonde even spoke. "Adrien's grandfather is a senator." She sniffed. "Or he used to be. He holds more sway with that judge than Daddy ever could."

"Oh?" Alya perked up again at the promise of a juicy story. "Anything we can use against him in our favor?"

Chloé shook her head. "Adrien's grandfather doesn't need to do anything illegal. Judge Corrompu will practically fall over himself to please anyone with a modicum of power. His grandfather's name alone will cause the judge to rule against Mr. Agreste almost immediately. I doubt that Mr. Eclat would even need to do anything other than drop his name. If Judge Corrompu is receiving bribes, it's not from Adrien's grandfather."

Nino meanwhile had gathered up the fallen notes while Alya scribbled something in her own tablet. "What is it?" he asked, catching sight of her determined expression.

Alya looked up. "Chloé should know our next step then," she said, smirking at the girl. Chloé frowned in confusion. "After all, aren't you a pro at getting the dirt on people?"

A slow smile spread over her face. "Of course," she said, "but I don't think I'll be able to get close to the judge."

Alya tapped the stacked papers with her pen. "I'll follow the paper trail. If this guy is taking bribes like Chloé is implying then I should be able to track down the money. Even if it doesn't lead to Adrien's grandfather, the scandal and fallout alone should ensure the judge is dismissed from his position."

"I could follow him," Marinette suggested in a small voice, her chin still resting on the table. She might as well offer to do something, and with her Ladybug skills she could easily slip around seeing if he met up with anyone.

Four pairs of eyes turned to her. "You?" The disdain in Chloé's voice echoed the unvoiced disbelief of the other three. Sabrina smothered a snort of laughter. Marinette frowned and lifted her head, insulted at the slight.

"Yes, me. I'm fairly adept at sneaking around," she said, resting a hand on her phone and giving Alya a meaningful look. Alya's disbelief melted away as she tilted her head in thought.

Chloé barked out a short laugh, but Alya jumped in at Marinette's defense. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. Girl, I know what you're capable of."

"This klutz? She'll trip and give everything away," Chloé insisted, waving her hands at the papers that were once scattered all over the table and floor.

"Then we're no better off than where we were before," Alya said. "Go for it, Marinette. Keep us informed, will you?"

Marinette nodded.

Nino pulled out his own notebook. "I started researching child custody laws with Alya here," he said. "It appears the courts can't take away a child unless it's proven that the parents are unfit. I don't like Mr. Agreste, but I really don't think he's an unfit parent. Strict and a bit unyielding, but definitely not unfit. Have you _seen_ Adrien's room?" Chloé and Marinette nodded. Marinette caught herself mid-nod and hastily corrected it with a shake of her head. "The dude's room is bigger than my entire house." Marinette hid a smile, knowing that it was a fairly accurate assessment.

Alya shuffled through the pages. "How did Adrien's grandfather win temporary custody if we know Mr. Agreste isn't an unfit parent?"

"Because of his influence?" Chloé asked, tapping her own notes to show the product of Sabrina's reveal.

"Yes," Alya said, still shuffling through the papers, "but Mr. Agreste is just as influential. They must have had a halfway decent reason or Adrien's dad would have plenty of opportunity to win at the next hearing. But if what you say is true and Adrien thinks his father can't win custody back, there has to be a solid reason."

"We could always ask him," Marinette suggested.

Again, four pairs of eyes turned to her. "Dude," Nino breathed, "we need you to be our liaison. Please don't antagonize the scary powerful man. You're our only hope."

"I meant ask Adrien," she said, rolling her eyes. The others released simultaneous sighs of relief.

Chloé snorted and held up her phone. "Adrien can't talk. His grandfather took away his cell phone."

"I thought I remember reading about there being tours available?" Marinette said, holding up a flier about the estate. She pointed at the tour schedule.

"Girl!" Alya squealed. "You are a genius! We can go meet Adrien during one of the tours. When is the next one?"

"Tomorrow," Marinette said. "In the morning. We'll have to skip school."

Chloé laughed. "No way. Daddy will get us out. I'll make up a reason. History project or something." The others looked at her, mouths agape. "What?" she said. "I want Adrien as back as much as you guys do. Why would I risk getting into trouble over that?"

"I thought you were banned from the estate," Nino said.

"They can't do anything to me if I'm in a tour group," Chloé said. "I won't cause trouble this time."

Alya exchanged a dubious look with Marinette, thankfully unnoticed by the girl in question.

Chloé continued, "Meet at my hotel tomorrow morning. Adrien's a good distance outside of the city, so we should ride together. I'll have Daddy send someone to drive us out there."

"Then I'll take this opportunity to get a head start on following Judge Corrompu," Marinette said, standing up.

Nino pointed to the books. "I'll keep researching into the laws and go to the courthouse to look at Adrien's case."

"You can do that?" Marinette asked, surprised.

Nino pushed back his cap with a confident smile. "My cousin is a law student. He's interning as a clerk for a judge for experience. He knows his way around court cases and files. It's not too hard to act like a frazzled intern running around the courthouse. He can get me a temporary badge and point me in the right direction. With so many law students that rotate in and out, they won't notice a new face in the archives. There has to be something else we can use."

"And I'll get started on that money trail," Alya said.

A plan declared, they scattered to go their separate ways until the next morning.

Which is how Marinette found herself stalking the not-so-elusive judge as he went about his day. She crawled along the sides of buildings, taking the opportunity to transform into Ladybug and swing from the rooftops when she almost lost him, and tracking his progress through her yo-yo. She slipped by the Parisians unnoticed. Even Tikki didn't remark on her rather selfish use of her powers before she transformed – only offering helpful suggestions and listening as Marinette verbalized her plan with a knowing smile upon her face.

Hours later, the sun had fallen and the judge didn't seem to be conducting any shady business. Ladybug settled on the edge of another building, munching on a rolled crepe as she watched the man enter a small hotel. She yawned and considered detransforming just so she could talk to Tikki, but the last time she did that the man had come out of his meeting and she nearly lost him despite her haste to transform and pick up his trail. Still, if the man didn't head home soon, she would have to give up for the night anyway. It was getting late and her parents would wonder where she was.

A man stepped outside of the building and nonchalantly leaned against the wall. For some reason, Ladybug's senses honed in on him. The man didn't appear unusual – dressed in casual jeans, dark hoodie, fiddling with his phone.

Wait.

She took out her yo-yo and zoomed in on the man.

As she thought. The man held his phone in front of him, tapping on the screen with his thumb, but his eyes darted around the area. _Like a guard_ , Ladybug realized. She crouched lower to the rooftop and hoped she couldn't be seen. Her bright red costume was _not_ conducive to sneaking around at night and for the first time envied her partner's sleek black outfit that allowed him to melt into the shadows. "Why would a guard be in front of that particular hotel?" she mused aloud, shutting off the camera on her yo-yo. She scuttled along the roof. At the corner, she tossed out her weapon and swung onto the roof of the hotel, careful to avoid the watchful eyes of the sentry. She cracked open the rooftop access door and slipped inside, taking care not to let the heavy metal slam behind her.

She inched down the stairs of the small hotel, slow and quiet. _Like a cat,_ she thought dryly, her thoughts immediately drifting to her partner. A smile quirked the corner of her lips. She almost missed the other man standing sentry in front of a windowless door. Her breath hitched in her throat. She flattened herself against the wall. After a moment, she risked a peek over the edge.

Definitely another guard. She had to get into that hallway. But first, she needed to distract the guard. Thinking fast, she darted back up the stairs, silent as a mouse, and slipped back onto the rooftop. She bent down and scooped up a small handful of gravel.

Ammo in hand and a plan half-formed, she crept back into the stairwell. When she got close to the guard, she picked out a couple of stones and lobbed them over her head.

They clattered faintly against the railings below.

Perfect.

She held her breath, counting to ten in her head, before risking another quick peek over the edge. The guard also had his head craned over the edge, attempting to see what caused the disturbance.

She hefted the remaining gravel in her hand. She knelt down and held her hand out over the stairwell, opening her palm and dumping the remaining bits of stone down the stairwell.

That should do it!

It certainly caught his attention. The guard jumped back and whipped out a walkie-talkie. "I got a disturbance in the stairwell. I can't leave my post. Need someone to check it out."

Uh oh.

She grimaced and scooted back up the stairs. The men would flood the stairwell in mere seconds and she needed to be gone.

But her gut told her she was so close to discovering something. She _had_ to stay. She owed it to Adrien. Pursing her lips, she opened up the door leading to the floor above the guard and slipped inside just as she heard the bottom floor's door slam open.

The hallway was empty. She ran past the closed doors, idly wondering if she could pass as a guest in the hotel if she detransformed and was caught. It wasn't a risk she was willing to accept, however. She needed to remain hidden at all costs. Footsteps sounded ahead of her. She ran into the hallway next to her without thinking.

Except it wasn't a hallway. It was a small alcove. She was exposed. And any second now the owner of those footsteps would be passing by. She gulped. Her hand brushed against something and she looked down to spot an air duct grill, painted to blend into the decorated wall. She grinned. Without wasting another second, she knelt down, lifted the covering, and slipped inside.

The footsteps passed without stopping. Ladybug released a long breath.

_Well, now that I'm in here, might as well see if I can get down to that other floor._ She pulled out her yo-yo, recalling Chat mentioning he used a similar tactic, and pulled up the schematics for Chloé's hotel. She swiped away most of the architecture and highlighted the ductwork. Mapping out a decent path, she began crawling inside the smooth corridors.

How long she crawled, she had no idea, following the blueprints as they turned and dipped and wove through the hotel. She hurried as fast as she dared, for the metal had a tendency to flex and groan under her weight. Thankfully, several fans drowned out the noise of movement. Still, she didn't want to get caught, so she kept her weight off the middle and toward the edges of the ducts, discovering that when she did so, the middle didn't bow and bend nearly as much as she maneuvered through the echoing labyrinth. Finally, she heard voices ahead of her. She inched forward, finding herself staring into a room from near the top of the ceiling.

Her jaw dropped at the sight. She gazed out into a room thick with people sitting at dozens of tables. Tables covered with teal-colored felt. The sounds of dice clacking against the tables, chips clicking, and cards shuffling filtered up to her, along with a faint aroma of cigarette smoke and lingering perfume. She gulped.

_Gambling isn't illegal in France,_ she mused, _so why all the guards?_

She tore her eyes away from a spinning roulette wheel as she spotted Judge Corrompu with a couple of other men in a corner near her. As if Alya lay beside her screaming in her ear, she knew she had to record this. She pulled up her yo-yo and depressed the button, stretching out flat on the cold metal duct to steady her camera.

"Here's your monthly settlement," one man said, handing over a thick yellow envelope to the judge. He cracked it open and Ladybug zoomed in on the stack of colorful euros inside. Judge Corrompu closed the envelope and stuck it in his jacket.

"Looks okay to me," he said. His eyes glanced around the room. "The hotel appears to be doing well," he remarked. "I checked your online bookings. All rooms occupied. Nicely done."

The first man snorted. "The rooms are barely a quarter occupied. We're only full on paper." He motioned to the room around him. "The fringe benefits to staying here are what keep us afloat."

The judge smiled. "Whatever helps you pay rent."

"Of course," the first man returned the shark-like smile. "Your rates are much cheaper than the taxes I would have to pay."

"I also provide fringe benefits with my rates," the judge returned with another easy smile. "But you're careful enough I never have had to pull strings for you. I might consider giving you a ten percent discount in the future if you continue keeping such a low profile."

The first man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That sounds fair," he said. "We'll have to keep up the good work for you."

"See that you do. I'll be taking my leave now. You have a good night." The judge turned away and the first man nodded at his guard. The guard stepped forward and escorted the judge from the room.

Ladybug clicked off the recording, glad her hands didn't shake during it. Was this how Alya felt? The thrill of adrenaline spiking through her as she uncovered a major scoop? She secured her yo-yo around her waist and crab-walked further back into safety in the duct. She didn't need to go all the way out to the stairwell now. Any window to the outside would work as an escape route.

After a few minutes of crawling, she came to another empty hallway with a window on one side. She slid out, closing the cover gently behind her. She stood and brushed the dust from her suit, resisting the urge to sneeze as the particles fluttered around her. With a grunt, she heaved open the window, flung out her yo-yo, and vanished as the night swallowed her up without a trace.

* * *

"You would not _believe_ what I found out!" Marinette hissed to the gathered group the next morning. They waited outside of Chloé's hotel for her father's car to arrive. Sabrina was absent, wishing to go to class instead of spending the day walking around a dusty house. Chloé said that she had a special report she needed to turn in and didn't want to miss giving a presentation in one of her classes.

Nino relaxed against the wall, one foot propped up upon the bricks as he swayed lightly to music from his headphones. Chloé tapped on her phone and pretended to ignore the others, but she too looked up at Marinette's exuberant arrival.

Alya stifled a yawn with one hand. She clutched a giant tumbler in the other. From the smell wafting from the lid, the blogger spent the majority of the night researching. "I hope it's better than the _nothing_ I discovered," she grumbled. "I don't even know where to focus my attentions."

Marinette yanked out her phone and swiped through the screen for a moment. She had sent herself the video and also emailed herself just in case. With a look of pure glee, she turned the phone around and tapped the _play_ button. The other three crowded around her.

"Maybe try looking into this hotel," she declared with more than a bit of smugness as the video started. She held the phone up, preferring to drink in their stunned expressions as their jaws dropped.

Alya let out a very audible gulp. "Girl," she said in a hoarse voice, almost at a whisper, "what did you _do_?"

"Followed the judge, snuck into the hotel, and got a video of him receiving bribes from an underground casino," Marinette declared with a proud smile.

The resulting exclamations only made her grin wider. From Nino's choked gasp to Chloé's open-mouth stare of blatant admiration to Alya's shriek of "Girl that was incredibly dangerous!" Marinette felt every inch of her Ladybug persona as she raised a lone eyebrow at Alya.

"More dangerous than sneaking after an akuma just to get a picture for the _Ladyblog_?" she accused in a lilting voice.

Alya flushed. "This is completely different and you know it," she insisted, clutching her tumbler so hard her knuckles turned white. "You could have been seriously injured – and Ladybug and Chat Noir would _not_ have been able to save you. _Promise me_ you won't do something that reckless again."

"No can do," Marinette teased in the same nonchalant tone. "I fear you've gotten the adrenaline rush junkie in me going. I know what you're talking about now." She struck a classic superhero pose. "Uncovering the corrupt, defending the innocent... I've got the itch now!" At their pale faces she dropped her antics and shot off a grin, bopping her friend's nose. "Now you know how it feels," she said.

"Girl," Alya began, rubbing one hand over her face, "you're going to be the death of me one of these days, I swear."

"That's not the only thing that's fishy about this case," Nino chimed in. "I was researching those custody laws and legal proceedings and something really didn't make sense with how a normal case usually runs with what Chloé has told us about Adrien's situation. When I headed over to city hall and asked around the courthouse, I found out a few weird things about the case. My cousin came through for me and got me an intern's pass into the court records room, and I spent all afternoon studying Adrien's case. It turns out, the whole reason Adrien's grandparents got custody in the first place was because Mr. Agreste ignored a court summons. The judge automatically ruled against him."

"That sounds like Mr. Agreste," Alya said with a snort.

Chloé shook her head. "No, it doesn't," she retorted. "Mr. Agreste would have replied to the summons, even _in absentia_. He would have sent Nathalie as his legal representative. He would _never_ have just ignored a summons. His lawyers would have made sure of that."

Nino nodded. "That's what I thought, too," he said, and Alya glared at him. He avoided her gaze and continued explaining. "So I got to digging further into the public court records. My cousin really knows how to navigate those legal briefs. Did you know that you need proof on file of a summons being delivered in order to rule against them? I looked for the proof. It's either a photograph or a signature. There was none on file."

The four were silent for a moment, letting that sink in.

"What does that mean?" Marinette asked at last.

Alya sighed, but there was a devious twinkle in her eyes. She smelled a story. "It means that Mr. Agreste never actually received a summons. The judge probably just ruled against him without following due process."

Marinette thought on that for a moment. "So does that mean that Adrien should never have gone with his grandparents in the first place?"

"Bingo," Alya replied, tapping Marinette on the nose in a mimicry of her own actions minutes earlier. She rolled her eyes and swatted Alya's hand away.

"Why didn't Mr. Agreste's lawyers discover this? It would have been the perfect excuse to get Adrien back," Marinette asked.

It was Chloé who chimed in with a sobering answer. "Maybe he gave up on Adrien before they could get that far."

They all pondered that possibility for a long while before Marinette spoke up again.

"Do you think Adrien's grandfather bribed the judge?"

That jerked them all out of their somber moods. Alya held up her copies of notes. "I don't believe so. The money trail doesn't show any record of payment like that to the judge. Judge Corrompu probably didn't want to risk angering Adrien's grandfather so he glossed over any legalities that would have delayed the case."

"So there's nothing on Adrien's grandfather we can use?" Marinette asked.

"Aside from the fact that people jump over themselves to please a powerful man? Nope. He's shockingly clean."

"Darn," came the dejected sigh from Chloé.

"We have to tell Mr. Agreste," Marinette insisted.

"We will. Once we finalize our arguments. We can't go in half-planned or he'll just dismiss any good points we have before we even get to tell him everything," Alya said.

"Shh, here comes my driver," Chloé interjected, and the talk died as they climbed into the car.

On the way to the estate, the four of them kept their conversation to relatively safe topics. Alya rattled off some facts she had researched for the _Ladyblog_ , with Chloé surprisingly jumping in to collaborate her stories. The two fans chatted about Paris' heroes the entire trip, and Marinette could only watch with a knowing smirk as the two debated various topics like if Ladybug actually wore a wig, if Ladybug and Chat Noir were an item, and if the two heroes would ever consider talking at different schools to build awareness for various issues (the last one courtesy of Alya).

So it was quite a relief when Nino finally pointed out the approaching estate. Marinette sighed with him, having been squeezed in the middle from an unanimous decision because she was the smallest. Chloé got the front seat, naturally.

Her relief ended up being short-lived as they went on the tour. Marinette, although suitably impressed with the interior, found herself stifling a yawn as they navigated the corridors. It was only their group plus a small group of elderly people on the tour. As the guide left the ballroom, Marinette lagged behind, fixated on a particular piece of furniture.

"Marinette," Alya called from the doorway, motioning for her to catch up with their group.

Startled, Marinette stumbled and tripped over the edge of a rug. With a small cry, she flung out her arms to steady herself and crashed into the fireplace mantle. Something clicked and a second later, she heard a low rumble and creak. Before she could react, the fireplace swiveled around, swallowing her inside.

"Eep!" Marinette let out a squeak as she stumbled through the hole and slammed into the ground. The opening rumbled shut behind her, leaving her in pitch blackness.

"Marinette!"

Faint pounding sounded on the outside of the fireplace. Marinette coughed a few times in the musty air, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She pulled out her phone and flicked on the flashlight app, shining it around the small space.

"Marinette!" The cry grew increasingly distressed. "Are you okay? Answer me, Marinette!"

"I'm okay," she yelled, and Alya's panicked shouting stopped.

"Marinette, can you get back out?" Nino asked.

She aimed the beam around in the darkness. "I can't see anything in here." Her hands ran up against the relatively smooth wall. "I can't see a switch, either."

Tikki popped out of her purse, oddly illuminated in the light of her cell phone. "I won't be able to phase through the wall if everyone is there. We have to find another way out," she said.

Marinette nodded, then cupped a hand around her mouth. "I'm going to follow this hallway. There has to be a way out on the other side."

"I'll go get the guide," Alya said.

"Wait, no!" Marinette cried. "They'll kick us out before we can find Adrien."

A long pause. She was afraid the group wouldn't leave her. "I can text you when I get out," she added, pulling up her phone to check her signal strength. A couple of bars. Not the best, but enough to send a message. She tapped one out fast. "See?" she cried as it went through.

"Fine," Alya's reluctance was clear even through the thick wall. "Be careful."

"I will!"

Leave it to her to literally trip into a secret passage. She wondered if Adrien's family was familiar with this passageway. From the amount of accumulated dust and dirt she brushed off her elbows, she assumed not. Oh well, nothing to do now but follow it to the end and hope Tikki could unlock it from that side. She slowly made her way through the corridor, trailing one hand along the wall to keep her balance and sweeping the light around so she didn't stumble.

The air was stifling and heavy – Marinette wondered when the last time was that someone wandered these halls. The rough stone scraped against her fingertips but she dare not remove her hand. The sensation grounded her.

After a couple of minutes, the beam of light from her phone shone on a wall looming ahead. "I think this is it, Tikki," she said, hurrying over to it. She pressed one hand along the wall, feeling for a lever or switch or button. Nothing. With a sigh, she pressed one ear against the wall and listened for a long moment. "I don't hear anything," she announced after a moment. She turned to her kwami. "Do you think it's safe to go out and try to unlock it for me?"

"Unlock what, Marinette?" Tikki replied. "That's a wall, not a door. I can phase through and see if there's anyone there, but if I'm seen that will be bad news."

Marinette tucked her shoulder into the wall and pushed. She grunted and strained, trying to summon all of her Ladybug strength. To no avail. Her shoes slid and scraped against the floor. She refused to give up. Gritting her teeth, she planted her feet once more and heaved. Her foot slid out from underneath her and she heard a soft click. Suddenly, the wall swung outward and she tumbled into bright sunlight.

And into something hard, yet warm. Soft hands steadied her. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the change in light and looked up. Gorgeous green eyes stared into hers with shocked confusion.

"Marinette?"

"Eep! Adrien!" she cried, launching herself backwards out of his arms. Dust floated everywhere and Marinette burned with shame at facing her crush covered in dirt and muck.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"Uh..." she glanced behind her at the open door. "In there?" she said, pointing with a giggle. "I accidentally fell into it."

His eyes lit up. "Wow cool, a secret passage! This is just like in the movies!" He bounded over to the wall and peered in. "I can't see anything."

"There's nothing much to see," Marinette said, furiously swiping at the dirt smears on her jacket once his back was turned. She stopped once he turned back to her. "It's just a passageway going from here to... well a room with a fireplace. There must have been a switch on the mantle or something. I tripped and the wall opened. I couldn't find a way out back there so I decided to follow the tunnel and see where it led."

Adrien grinned. He bent and picked up her phone which had fallen from her hands once the wall gave way under her. "That's amazing!" he exclaimed again. He handed it to her and she switched off the flashlight, releasing a sigh of relief as she examined the phone and discovered it was undamaged. "How did you get out?"

She thought on that and frowned. "I think there's a button in one of the floor panels," she said, turning and pointing to the stone she thought she activated. He knelt down and poked at it in delighted curiosity. "My foot slipped and I heard a click and then the wall moved."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, tearing himself away from the tunnel to face her again. He stood back up and brushed his hands together to get rid of the grime.

Recalling the real reason for her visit, she explained that their class missed him and so she and a few others decided to sneak out and see him. "Oh, I should probably text them that I'm okay. Where are we anyway?" She glanced around the room, noticing for the first time a bunch of books and notebooks scattered around a small table.

"The study," Adrien replied. "My tutor's at lunch so I was doing schoolwork and decided I needed to stretch. I didn't expect the wall to explode on me and dump a girl straight into my arms, though." He grinned. "Talk about a nice surprise."

She flushed and ducked her head, busying herself with tapping on her phone. "We were just worried about you." She paused from her texting and looked at him, for once meeting his eyes without a stammer in her voice. "Chloé said that you're not happy."

This time it was Adrien who averted his eyes and flushed. "Chloé said that?" he mumbled, fixing his sight on some invisible spot on the floor.

She nodded. "She said that you told her you missed your father and going to school." She waited a moment before attempting to capture his gaze again. "Adrien, is that true? Do you miss your father? Really?"

Adrien was silent for a long moment. "Yeah," he said at last in a tiny voice. "I do."

"We need to ask you a very important question," Marinette continued. She took a deep breath. "Why do you think your grandfather is going to win the hearing?"

Adrien blinked. "Uh... huh?"

"Chloé said that you believed that your father wouldn't win against your grandfather. I know your grandfather has influence in the courts, but your father is just as influential. Why do you think he's not going to win?"

Her friend walked over to one of the chairs and sat back down in it, slumping his back. "If my father could win, he would have already." He looked back at her. "You should have seen him, Marinette," he said, "he looked _awful_. It's been so long since I've seen my father looking like that. If he could have gotten me back by now, he would have. I..." his voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat. "I just think that my grandfather came into this too well prepared."

Marinette planted her fists upon her hips and shot Adrien the most triumphant smile. "Don't worry about that," she said. "We have a plan to help you. We just need to give your father a boost of confidence."

"How can you do that?" Adrien asked. "I think my grandfather knows the judge."

Her grin turned feral. "I was hoping that would be the case. I can't tell you much right now, it's too dangerous." Adrien blinked and looked to be holding back a smile. "I'm serious, Adrien. I can't tell you. But I _can_ tell you to have faith. We have a few tricks up our sleeves."

She peeked out of the door. "I gotta go now, but stay in good spirits, okay? We're going to get you back with us." With a reassuring grin at him, she turned to slip away, but was stopped by his voice.

"Wait, Marinette."

She turned back.

He stepped up close to her and placed both hands upon her shoulders. "Thank you," he said, the sincerity shining through in his joyous expression. "I-I mean-" he stuttered, "thank you for caring enough about me to sneak out here and visit. I don't know exactly what it is you're doing to help my father, and I'm pretty sure it's probably as dangerous as you're claiming, but... thank you."

She flushed, squeaked, and stammered something incomprehensible before turning away and ducking out of the room to rejoin their friends, leaving him grinning with happiness as she disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all of your support! I'm so happy to see so many people enjoying this :)
> 
> The part where Marinette sneaks into the hotel was one of my favorite scenes to write in this story.
> 
> This next explanation is a bit of an author's insight as to something; a bit of rambling background trivia. I get asked occasionally why I wait until my story is complete before I post the first chapter of a story, instead of posting chapters as I go. Aside from the fact that I may lose interest halfway through a story and stop posting (which isn't fair to the readers), I also go back and add things to chapters in the editing phase (again, which isn't fair to you readers to change things up like that if it's already posted).
> 
> This chapter is the perfect example of what I'm referencing. In this chapter, I had Marinette literally stumble into a secret passage attached to the grandparents' estate. In my vague, initial idea and outline of this scene, I was going to have Marinette and the others all meet up with Adrien during the tour. While writing the rough draft for the chapter, I decided to add in the secret passage and turn it into a one-on-one meeting between Adrien and Marinette instead.
> 
> Which brings me to the point of this rambling. When I was editing an earlier chapter for posting, I decided to drop a slight hint/foreshadowing that this secret passage actually exists. Can anyone find it? (Hint: it's in chapter 3). I enjoy details that make an appearance later in stories, and I love continuity (no matter how small). So the little nod to this chapter's secret passage made me smirk as I added it into my edits, even if no one else would have picked up on it if I hadn't said anything :D


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

"We need to visit Mr. Agreste today," Alya said, and Marinette's heart clenched.

"So soon? We haven't released the video yet," she protested.

They were gathered together at their usual table in the library during lunch. Sabrina joined them this time, and she just finished explaining how they could sneak Marinette's video to the police anonymously. Thankfully, Sabrina had connections through her father and could quietly hand over the video and Alya's meticulous notes without revealing their identities.

Sabrina planned to turn everything over that afternoon once school released for the day. Which left the others starting at Marinette as she squirmed under their scrutiny.

She sighed. "Fine," she relented. "We'll go today. But I'm not talking to him alone. If you're going to destroy my future in fashion then I'll take you all down with me." She pointed to each of them in turn.

Nino held up his hands. "Except me, dude. I think your chances are better off without me there. I'll hang out outside and wait."

"He has a point," Alya agreed. Marinette pursed her lips and finally nodded.

"Okay, yes, fine," she said. "But you're walking with us and standing outside that gate until we come out." Her gaze turned flinty. "No excuses."

"I'm okay with that," Nino said.

"I don't think I should go, either," Sabrina said. "The sooner I turn over that video to my father's friends, the faster we'll be able to get things moving. We shouldn't really delay this any longer."

"Fine," Marinette conceded, in exasperation. "You definitely need to keep us informed, however."

Sabrina bobbed her head. "Absolutely. I'll text Chloé once I'm finished. Maybe we could meet up this evening? Then you could share what Mr. Agreste said."

"That's acceptable."

After school, Marinette found herself pressing the button outside of the Agreste manor once again. Chloé and Alya huddled behind her, bravely pushing her forward. Nino ducked out of sight along the side, occasionally casting them sympathetic looks that did nothing to quell the rising butterflies in Marinette's stomach.

The optical eye popped out and Nathalie's voice filtered through the speaker. "Yes?"

"We're here to see Mr. Agreste, please," Marinette said, summoning the courage to speak clearly and without a single stutter.

"Mr. Agreste is not receiving visitors at this time," came the emotionless reply.

Marinette clenched her fists together. "Please, it's important. It's about Adrien," she added, playing the one card she knew would gain them access. Hopefully.

The camera retracted inside without another word.

Marinette stood there for a long moment, motionless.

"Well, that was a bust," Chloé said from behind her.

"Maybe she's just asking Mr. Agreste about it," Alya suggested.

They waited a couple of more minutes before Marinette sighed and turned to them. "It's clear what his response is. And we don't have time to wait around here forever. We have things to do."

She was about to walk away when the optical eye shot out once more. "Mr. Agreste will see you," Nathalie said and the gates to the manor clicked open.

The three stood for a moment, frozen in shock at the sudden admittance before Alya pushed Marinette ahead. "Go on, girl," she whispered.

Marinette slumped her shoulders. "And here I was hoping we could work on our own preparations for tomorrow's fallout," she said with a resigned sigh as she headed into the manor's grounds.

Inside, the three of them found themselves facing Gabriel Agreste, who studied them each in turn. Nathalie stood beside him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. The designer's appearance was exacerbated from as the last time Marinette saw him, and mild dishevelment now yielded a body which looked like it was just recovering from a bout of severe flu – which was to say he looked frazzled, worn, and incredibly exhausted. The dark bags under his eyes, faint before but pronounced now to the point they made his thin face gaunter and highlighted the gray-blue of his eyes, heavy-lidded with weariness. The ash-blond hair remained ruffled and slightly rippled like the last time she visited. Despite his stony exterior, Marinette suspected the fashion icon was very concerned about his son. Beside her, Chloé shifted as her lips pursed in critical observation, clearly antsy to remark on his state of disarray.

Marinette opened her mouth to take the lead before Chloé could say anything, figuring that Mr. Agreste wouldn't speak first, when he surprised them all by addressing them.

"I am told this is concerning Adrien," he began. "Though I assure you if you've interrupted my work with false pretenses I won't be pleased." The ice in his voice pierced Marinette.

"Adrien's miserable!" Chloé exclaimed.

"Chloé!" Marinette hissed. "Remember what we discussed about letting me speak?"

"Hmph!" the blonde tossed her hair behind her head.

However, it had the intended effect on Mr. Agreste. His mouth dropped open before he lowered his chin and narrowed his eyes. "Nonsense. He's perfectly happy with his grandparents." A flash of pain swept through his eyes before he clenched his jaw. "I saw him on Saturday."

"I visited him Sunday."

"Chloé!" A jab from Alya accompanied the blogger's low admonishment.

"Mr. Agreste," Marinette said, "Adrien feels that you can't win custody back."

The man's face darkened. "And what has drawn him to that conclusion?"

The fledgling designer stepped forward, eager to get control of the situation before Chloé could speak again and get them into deeper trouble. "We went out to Adrien's grandparents' estate yesterday," she explained, "and talked to him."

Mr. Agreste regarded them in surprise. "Hermine allowed you all to visit?" he asked.

"Hermine?"

"Adrien's grandfather."

She fidgeted with her fingers for a second or two. "Well," she drew out, "we didn't exactly see Adrien's grandfather... I'm not even sure he knew we were there."

Now Mr. Agreste looked intrigued. But before he could inquire further, Alya spoke up. "Adrien says that his grandfather might know the judge in charge of your case," she said. "Is that why you're worried you'll lose?" The older man frowned at the words once more. Alya continued. "Because if that's why you're worried, then I can tell you that you shouldn't be concerned. I don't think that judge will be in charge of Adrien's case by the time you go to court in a couple of weeks."

"Tomorrow," came the quiet reply.

The three girls stared at Mr. Agreste in shock. "What?" Marinette asked first.

"The court date was moved up to tomorrow," Mr. Agreste repeated in the same soft voice. "I received notice this morning."

Alya and Chloé exchanged a look full of panic. Even Marinette's eyes widened.

"What?" Marinette exclaimed, partly lost in her own anguish. "They can't do that. We don't have enough time to prepare."

"Prepare?"

Mr. Agreste's innocent question snapped her head up, where she locked onto his eyes. He studied her with passive stoicism, though his eyes shone with a curious gleam. Marinette blinked and attempted to smooth away the panic into something more innocuous – and she desperately hoped that Mr. Agreste didn't see through her facade. He tilted his head, as if trying to figure her out.

"We've been studying up on the legal system as well," she said, the words spilling from her before she could even form them completely in her mind. What would be safe enough for schoolkids to figure out that _didn't_ involve dangerous investigations into criminal organizations?

She glanced to either side of her, catching Alya's puzzled face and Chloe's passively indifferent one and another idea shot to her mind.

"We did a bit of background research into the judge," she said, "since we figured your legal team would be able to get a lot more specifics on the laws than a bunch of kids."

Mr. Agreste blinked, and a faint ripple of guilt contorted his features for a brief moment before smoothing back into his blank mask. Guilt? She idly wondered if he _had_ given up like they deduced. Uh-oh. Maybe he didn't really have a good defense planned at all. She gulped.

She needed to act.

"Adrien needs you," she blurted out, throwing her shoulders back. Mr. Agreste didn't say anything, but his frown deepened. She hurried ahead before he could ban her from the estate. "He needs his father. You might think he's better off with his grandparents, and maybe you feel you're too busy to devote the kind of time to him that his grandparents can now give, but he needs _you_. He's spent his whole life here and if he has spent all year making friends. He's one of the kindest people in the class, and is always willing to lend a hand to those who need help. But he's only able to be himself because he's comfortable here."

"So you just want Adrien back in your class?" Mr. Agreste asked.

"It's not that at all," Marinette said. "I want Adrien to be happy. He's in unfamiliar settings with unfamiliar people. Even if they are family, he's built up a family here."

"He is enjoying his time with his grandparents."

"But they're not you! You've been there for him his whole life. He might take the opportunity to get to know his extended family better, but he told me that he misses you. He wants to come back and live here with you."

Behind her, Chloé spluttered indignantly, and Marinette remembered too late that Adrien was supposed to be the one to tell Gabriel that fact. Ah well, things were moving a lot faster than they had previously anticipated.

Mr. Agreste didn't say anything for a long time. When at last he spoke, it was in a carefully controlled tone, as if he was channeling all of his effort into maintaining neutrality. "Adrien said that?" It came out in a near whisper, even softer than the designer's usual quiet voice.

Marinette nodded.

He averted his gaze and spent a few seconds studying the other two girls behind Marinette. When he returned his focus back to her, he shifted his shoulders ever-so-slightly. "It won't matter in the end," he said. "Hermine has the judge wrapped around his finger. The opportunity for a fair hearing appears quite remote."

She grinned, the smug confident smile of Ladybug about to deliver Rube Goldberg retribution upon an akuma. "Then you had better get prepared," she declared. "Because we've got this part covered." Her Ladybug confidence burst forth and she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "We'll take care of getting you a fair judge. We can show you what we've got and help you to prepare." She unhooked her backpack and started to dig through it.

"No."

She froze and looked up at Adrien's father. "What?"

"I appreciate your dedication to my son, but I'm sorry, I must decline your offer of assistance."

"Why?"

"If what you say is true, then you've done quite enough so far to help Adrien. I can take it from here." He stared at each of them in turn, his blue eyes focusing with intensity even as he attempted a small soft smile. "You've given me more than enough to think about."

Marinette bit her lip, frowning in thought for a moment before she nodded. "Okay. We'll go prepare for tomorrow also. Thank you for your time, Mr. Agreste."

They left without another word, but outside, Alya and Chloé began speaking simultaneously. "We have to tell Sabrina," Chloé said.

"We need to keep researching," Alya added.

Marinette held up her hands. "Calm down both of you. We still have time. Let's make sure the video is submitted to the proper authorities and then we'll convene in Chloé's hotel and go over our notes. If Mr. Agreste isn't adequately prepared, then it'll be up to us to help Adrien."

They reached Nino and Alya quickly filled him in on what happened inside the manor in a low voice. "Do you really think it will come down to that?" Chloé asked, turning to Marinette once Nino was caught up. "If Mr. Agreste needs our help, that's not a good thing."

Marinette planted her hands on her hips. "I can't just sit around and do nothing." She smiled. "Unless you would prefer I follow the judge around again?"

"No!" A chorus of voices exclaimed at once. Marinette chuckled.

"I thought not. Now, let's get moving. Alya, go get your notes and go with Chloé and pass them onto Sabrina. We need to get this video in before the trial tomorrow, and she needs to know our timetable has moved forward. Nino, go get your work and we'll meet up at Chloé's tonight. I'll bring some of my bakery's treats."

Their eyes lit up, even Chloé's. "Sounds great, girl," Alya said. "Let's get going. My mouth is already watering for those macarons." She walked away with Chloé, calling over her shoulder as she left, "and you better include my favorites!"

* * *

Adrien paced around his room for the dozenth time that night. He put on some music through his computer, but the soothing sounds did nothing to quell his anxiety. Something was up. His grandparents had been acting strange all evening long. They evaded his questions and canceled their usual night of activities with him. His grandfather retired early, citing exhaustion, and his grandmother merely followed without explanation. That left Adrien alone to his own devices.

The first thing he did upon returning to his room was pull up the _Ladyblog_ , to see if there was any reports of an akuma attack. Finding none, he still couldn't really account for his grandparents' unusual behavior.

Pace, pace, pace, refresh the _Ladyblog_ , pull up new music, resume pacing.

He couldn't even access his social media to talk to his friends because his grandfather had continued to block the pages through the Wi-Fi. He considered trying to hack through the system, but didn't have much of a talent for that and he didn't really care to try. He refreshed the _Ladyblog_ again.

"Give it a rest, will you, Adrien?" Plagg whined from his spot on Adrien's bed, tucked just out of sight of the door should he receive any unannounced visitors.

"Something's wrong. I can feel it. Can't you, Plagg?"

"The only thing I can feel is the vibrations of your feet ruining my catnap," came the snarky reply. Adrien rolled his eyes. "When are you going to tell your grandfather about that passage your clumsy girlfriend discovered?"

"Her name is Marinette, and she's not clumsy," Adrien said. Plagg snorted in disbelief. "Well," Adrien amended, "okay so she's a little clumsy. But that's not the point. I'll tell him once I've explored it more. Do you think there are other passageways in the house?"

"Probably," his kwami replied with an enormous yawn, closing his eyes and curling back up on the sheet.

Adrien shook his head in exasperation. "Doesn't that intrigue you even a little bit?" he asked.

"Nope. It's intriguing though that you haven't denied the girlfriend part," Plagg said with a sly smirk.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Plagg! Would you stop it? Marinette is just my friend!"

The boy walked over to the bay window and stared out at the night, ignoring the cackling of his kwami behind him. The moon, neither full nor new but some dim phase in between, cast faint light over the yard. Adrien rested his arm upon the panes, recalling how he would often do the same while peering out of his room at home. It wasn't so much different than here, he realized. The only difference was if he slipped out of his room now, he wouldn't catch a ray of light shining beneath the crack of the door to his father's atelier as he worked late into the night.

A sharp pang struck Adrien at that. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as a wave of sadness cascaded over him.

He missed his father.

His eyes snapped open. "Plagg, we're going out tonight."

His kwami floated up from his nest in the bed. "What? But it's so warm in here," he whined.

"You can snuggle under the covers when we return," Adrien declared. "Plagg, Claws Out," he cried, thrusting his fist forward. Plagg's long moan of disapproval lingered even after Adrien donned his heroic outfit and bounded out of the window without a second thought.

He soared over the rooftops, his legs instinctively jumping and hopping in the direction of his home. Even if he didn't know the way, the tall Eiffel Tower looming over the city provided for a very nice focal point. In no time at all, he was perched on the rooftop of _Le Grand Paris_ , smiling as he noticed some lights still on in his home. He leaped over, eager to peer into the windows.

He spotted his father in his office on the upper floor, hunched over his desk. Papers and books lay scattered around him. Gabriel had a pencil stuck behind his ear and another one twirling between his fingers as he flipped through a thick book. He paused, noted something in the margins, and continued flipping through the pages. Occasionally, he would stop and sketch something down in a large pad beside him.

Chat's ears drooped.

He should have known. His father was working as if it were just an ordinary day. As if his only son wasn't away from the manor. As if he didn't even care about him.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He turned and shot out his baton, flinging himself into the darkness, far away from his workaholic father and empty mansion.

Before he knew it, he found himself outside of Nino's apartment, staring into the window where the DJ would normally be sitting at his desk, remixing some music or working on schoolwork with his headphones on.

The room was dark, obviously deserted.

On a hunch, he headed over to Alya's place, wondering if his friend might have had a date with the blogger. It would lift his spirits to catch a glimpse of the young couple doting over each other. Or, knowing Alya, pouring over theories on the _Ladyblog_.

Alya's room was also dark and empty.

His sour mood now overtaking everything else in his mind, he swung around town aiming for Marinette's bakery. Surely Alya and Nino would be over there. The three of them would be laughing, eating delicious pastries provided by her parents, and having a great time. Without him.

But Marinette's cold and empty room put a stop to that line of thought.

It should have made him happy – knowing that his friends _weren't_ enjoying themselves without him. After all, misery loves company, right? But his traitorous mind concluded that they must be out at a movie. Or other fun place. At this point in time he had no idea if there were any special events going on in the city, nor did he particularly care to look. He dove across rooftops – reckless and wild, tears leaking out of his eyes (from the sharp wind, he told himself).

He found himself at the top of the Eiffel Tower, stretched across one of the beams. His face pressed against the cool metal. He closed his eyes, reveling in the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair. A faint whirring noise caught his attention. He would recognize that sound anywhere. He shot up, eyes searching the landscape for a glimpse of his lady.

"Hello, Chat," she greeted, landing nimbly beside him. His face broke out into a giant goofy grin at her presence.

"My lady!" he exclaimed.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Such enthusiasm," she chuckled.

"I'm just happy to see you, as always," he said, bowing over her hand.

She pulled back just as his lips brushed her knuckles. "Not _this_ happy, kitty. Is everything all right?"

He slumped over and sat back down on the beam. "Just some things going on in my personal life. I don't want to trouble you."

He felt her sit beside him and rest a small hand on his shoulder. "It's no trouble, Chat. We're partners."

He sighed, casting his eyes out across Paris. "Just feeling a tad blue today. I've been away from my family and friends for a while and I thought maybe they would miss me."

"And they don't?" He could hear her indignant dismay in her voice.

He chuckled, low and dark. "I guess not. My fa- family is busy, as usual," he added in a bitter tone. "None of my friends are home. They're probably out having a good time without me."

Ladybug squeezed his shoulder. He hadn't realized her hand was still there. "Or maybe your friends are working on schoolwork at the library. Or at each others' homes? It's a school night. I wouldn't be so hasty to jump to conclusions. And as for your family – maybe they're busy because you've been absent. They're trying to get as much work out of the way so when you do come back they can spend as much time with you as possible."

Chat didn't bother to correct the point – it would give too much away. He shrugged instead.

"I wouldn't give up on your friends just yet. But if you decide you want some new ones, you can always borrow mine." She giggled, and Chat's heart lifted out of his chest.

"You mean that, Ladybug?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied. "My friends are kind and would definitely welcome you."

A bit of his sass flared up. "Well, who wouldn't love to be associated with Paris' debonair cat of the night?" he asked, leaning into her.

She giggled again and pushed him away with one finger. "I see your cheer has returned. I'm sorry to leave you right now, but I really must be going. I have an important report due tomorrow. You could say it's worth my entire year's grade so far."

"Wow, I'm so terribly sorry for keeping you, my lady," Chat said. He stood, offering his hand to her. She accepted, and he helped her to her feet. He even forsook the usual attempt at planting a kiss on her hand. "Thank you, Ladybug," he said. "You've brightened up my night, more so than usual."

"You'll always be one of my closest friends, Chat. Have a good evening."

With one last radiant smile, she flung out her yo-yo and vanished into the inky darkness.

He watched her disappear into the night, his lips upturned into a smile filled with love. She offered up her friends to him just because he was feeling sad. He inhaled deep, closing his eyes and catching a whiff of the fragrant blossoms drifting on the wind. It wasn't nearly as pungent as the flower gardens around his grandparents' estate, but it smelled familiar. It smelled like home. He relaxed against the tall beam and gazed off as the lights twinkled and sparkled below him. All of Paris before him and he yearned for his home. He really was quite a house cat.

He didn't have time to revisit his friends but maybe one last swing by his home will suffice to soothe his aching heart. He shot over, perching across from his father's window in the same spot he sat a couple of hours previously. His father hadn't moved much from the last time he saw him. Chat took out his baton, using the camera to zoom in on his father's desk.

He watched as Gabriel took off his glasses. He set them down on the desk and scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing up into his hair. Chat almost snorted with laughter at the result – poofy flyaway strands sticking out every which way. His father smoothed his hair back down, settled his glasses upon his face again, and picked up the thick book Chat had spotted earlier. He enlarged the screen with a pinch of his fingers, zooming in to enhance the details of the book and reveal the title.

_Custody Laws of France._

The baton slipped from Chat's grasp. He stood there, stunned, as his weapon clanged across the rooftop. The sound jerked him from his stupor and he scrambled for the staff, lunging forward. His fingers curled around it just as it bounced off the edge. Desperate, he flicked up the camera and pointed it back at his father.

His breath caught in his chest as his lungs constricted. He watched his father with wide eyes and breathless hope.

Gabriel scratched something out in his notebook, then scribbled for a few minutes before turning his attentions back to the book. He reached across his desk and pulled another open book toward him, his finger drifting along the page. Occasionally, he would pause and jot something down in his notes before resuming his reading. After a few minutes, he put down his pencil and rubbed his eyes again.

Chat's heart tightened. His father looked as if he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks – which Chat realized, might very well be the case.

Gabriel reached for something in the corner of his desk and pulled it close, staring at it for a long time. Chat zoomed in on his father holding a small frame – with a picture of him in it. He almost dropped his baton for the second time that night. His throat dried even as tears pricked his eyes. His hand trembled as he watched his father trace the picture with one long finger, then set it aside. Gabriel picked up his pencil, dragged the book closer, and with one final glance at Adrien's picture, resumed his work.

Chat blinked back tears as he turned and darted away. His heart felt like it was breaking into two. He missed his father. He wished he could leap in through the window right now and tell him that. Gabriel was working himself to death just to get Adrien back. It both cheered and frightened him. It cheered him that his father cared enough about him. And frightened him because he had never seen his father so anxious about anything. Could his father really not win?

It was with mixed feelings that Chat finally slipped back into his room nearly thirty minutes later, releasing his transformation and crawling under the covers. Plagg, mercifully silent for once, snuggled into the crook of Adrien's neck until he surrendered to the sweet allure of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Agreste emerging near Adrien's wing covered in dust and grime was the hint in chapter 3 towards the existence of the secret passage in chapter 5.
> 
> As always, special thank you to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) for beta-reading and catching plot-holes, disconnected thoughts, and general spelling and grammar errors.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

It was early Friday morning when Marinette slipped out of the bakery with a giant armful of treats in a box. She wondered if they all would make it to the courthouse intact, and consciously slowed her steps so she wouldn't trip. Tikki rested in her purse with a couple of cookies. Half a dozen more lay in the box. The kwami had buzzed around her room all night, chirping and squealing her praise at Marinette. The girl had only giggled at the red sprite's joy. Or was it because of Marinette's joy?

Not for the first time, she wondered if Tikki fed off her emotions. The little kwami could cheer Marinette up when she was feeling lonely, sad, or uncertain, but Marinette's own joy often propelled the kwami into utter bliss.

Or maybe it was the fresh chocolate chip cookies she and her father had made that morning.

Either way, Marinette was in high spirits when she met Alya outside of the courthouse. The blogger's eyes lit up at the sight of the pastry box.

"Ooh, girl, do you have any pain au chocolat?"

Marinette opened the lid and Alya dug into the selections with a gleeful cry. As she munched on her preferred treat, Nino arrived and snagged his own breakfast item. The three of them sat along the steps eating in comfortable quiet, watching the people move around them.

"Did Sabrina hand over the video in time?" Marinette asked at last.

Nino and Alya shrugged. "I certainly hope so," Alya replied. They looked around for the two girls. "I wonder where they are."

Marinette checked her phone. "It's almost time to head inside. We don't want to be late."

The three stood up and brushed themselves off. Marinette closed the lid of the pastry box with a forlorn look. "I brought some for Chloé and Sabrina, but I don't think they allow food inside the building."

Nino reached over, opened the lid again and grabbed two more pastries, stuffing one into his mouth.

Alya and Marinette gaped at him. "What?" he protested after a moment, gulping his mouthful down. "It's a travesty to see such delicious pastries go to waste."

Alya grinned. "He's right, girl," she said, reaching over and snagging another pain au chocolat. Marinette didn't even try to stop her.

"Hurry up," Marinette admonished. Her two friends finished quickly and brushed their hands together as they headed up the stairs. "Can someone text Chloé and ask her where she is?" she asked, glancing to her side.

"I can, my hands are cleaner," Alya said, pulling out her phone. She looked up. "Marinette, watch out!"

"Eep!" Marinette released a squeak as she nearly barreled into a man coming around the corner. Her pastry box flew up out of her hands. With a gasp, she darted forward at lighting speed to grab it. Her hands over-extended and threw her off balance. "Whoa!" Making a split-second decision, she ignored the bakery food soaring in the air and scrambled backwards to stop herself from toppling down the stairs and sustaining serious injury. After a few impossible feats of acrobatics, she finally stabilized herself. She looked up to discover the box resting safely in the hands of Mr. Agreste. Nathalie stood beside him and both stared at her with a mixture of awe and concern.

"M-Mr. Agreste!" Marinette sputtered out, her face burning with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry!" she apologized.

"It's quite all right," he assured her. He handed the box over. "Aren't you all supposed to be in class?"

Alya nodded. "Mayor Bourgeois gave us excuses so we could be here for Adrien," she explained.

The designer's eyes drifted over the three of them. "Hmm," he said. Marinette couldn't decipher his expression, so she did what she always did when facing uncertainty with an armful of food.

"Would you like a pastry, Mr. Agreste?" Marinette opened the box and offered it to him. He blinked in surprise. "I baked a bunch of them fresh this morning since I couldn't sleep, but the others are late and they won't allow food inside. I'll just have to throw them all away."

He reached in and selected one, thanking her as he did. Marinette passed the box over to Nathalie, who gave her a thin smile and a murmured thanks before picking out a cookie.

"Since you are here now," Mr. Agreste began as he took a bite of his danish. He pulled it away and eyed it with surprised delight before continuing with his sentence, "I thought I should tell you that the judge has not changed for Adrien's case."

"What?" Marinette sputtered. "But my video—ow!"

Alya dug her elbow into Marinette's side. She cut off with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of her head.

"What video?" Mr. Agreste asked.

"It's nothing," Marinette mumbled. "Forget I said anything."

With another searching look at Marinette, Mr. Agreste nodded and let the subject drop. He continued into the courthouse with Nathalie trailing behind him. Once he was out of sight, Marinette slumped against Alya.

"Phew, that was almost bad," she exclaimed.

"No kidding, girl. You can't keep blabbing about your video to everybody you come across," Alya chided.

"What? No, I mean I almost hit _Gabriel Agreste_ in the face with my pastries!" Marinette threw back her head dramatically. She covered her eyes with one arm. "Can you imagine? What if the custard pie had smacked him in the face? Then it would have gotten in his perfectly styled hair and dripped onto his super expensive suit that's probably worth more than my parents' entire bakery."

"That would be a sight," Nino murmured, his eyes glazed over as he imagined the scene.

"No!" shrieked Marinette. "That would mean he wouldn't have been able to show up in court because he'll be wearing a ruined suit and Adrien wouldn't have anyone to defend him and then the judge will rule against Mr. Agreste and I'll never see Adrien ever again and Mr. Agreste will blame me for it and it will be all my fault!" She ended with a wail and buried her face into Alya's shoulder.

Alya fought back a grin as she watched the rambling girl with amusement. "Then it's a good thing that didn't happen."

Marinette perked up. "You're right."

"We're going to be late," Nino reminded them.

"Ack!"

Alya laughed. "Let's go, girl. And maybe next time just to be safe, don't include any cherry danishes." With a wink, she headed up the steps with Nino. After a second, Marinette chuckled and followed after them.

They located the correct room and found an empty bench, sliding in and leaving some space for Chloé and Sabrina. They spotted Adrien off to one side, sitting between two older people. His grandparents, Marinette assumed, but her friend kept his eyes forward and didn't look around.

Marinette kept glancing behind her, trying to look for any hint of their other two classmates. Mr. Agreste and Nathalie entered and took a seat behind them, which prompted Marinette to face forward. She didn't want to appear impolite in front of her role model. Alya tapped on her phone.

"Where is she?" she mumbled under her breath.

Marinette slumped against the bench. "I knew I should have gone out again last night. The one video wasn't enough. I could have gotten more evidence."

"No!"

The harsh hiss coming from her friend surprised her. "Alya?"

"Don't you ever do anything like that ever again, you hear me?" Alya had gone into full mother-hen mode. Marinette looked to Nino for help. He raised his hands and sat back, clearly not going to come in between the two girls.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Coward," she hissed across Alya to the DJ. He smirked at her. She turned back to Alya. "And I'm not listening to a single thing you say, Miss 'I run _towards_ rampaging akumas'."

"That is different," Alya whispered back. Both girls tried to keep their voices low.

"How is that different?" Marinette challenged.

"It was way more dangerous. You could have gotten hurt."

"So can you."

"It's different!"

"Why?"

"Because Ladybug's powers restore everything back to normal," Alya exclaimed, louder than she wanted. She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth as a couple of people turned to look at them. "Sorry," she said. She waited until no one was paying them any attention anymore and turned back to her friend. "You could have gotten killed, Marinette."

"Puh-lease," Marinette drawled, folding her arms with a pout. She was getting tired of her friend going off on her when the very girl ignored all of her attempts to keep her safe during akuma attacks. "I was perfectly safe. I was hiding."

"In a duct."

"Exactly." Marinette turned and glared at Alya. "I was hidden out of sight. Perfectly safe, which is more than I can say for anything you do."

"How did you even sneak into that place anyway? It was guarded."

"Well, I climbed... wait a minute, how did you know it was guarded?" Marinette turned a steely eye to Alya, whose angry expression melted into a guilty one instantly. "Alya?"

"I... may have gone back to check the place out last night after meeting up with Chloé," Alya admitted.

"Alya!"

"Shhh, I didn't go in. I only biked by to see what was so special about it. There was a guard outside. I just rode right past without stopping."

Marinette stared at her friend for a long time before pointing a finger at her. "Not another word, ever again. You are _way_ more reckless than I ever will be."

"Seriously, girl, how did you get in? The place seemed pretty well fortified."

Marinette chuckled. "I guess I'm just very good at slipping into places with extremely tight security." She winked.

Before Alya could answer back, Chloé appeared beside them. "Sorry we're late," she said. Behind her, Sabrina slipped into an empty bench.

The three looked up at her arrival. "What's going on?" Alya asked. "Court should have started fifteen minutes ago." With a start, Marinette realized she was right. She scooted over to make room for the blonde, but Chloé waved her hand.

Chloé smirked. "You'll see. I can't say more. You'll find out soon enough. We're not going to sit with you, because we probably shouldn't look like a group."

She headed back over to the other side of the courtroom and sat beside Sabrina.

"Oh no she doesn't," Alya mumbled under her breath, whipping out her cell phone and tapping on it furiously. She looked over at Chloé as the blonde reached for her phone, read the message, and looked up at Alya. Chloé shook her head and put the phone back in her purse. "Ugh!" Alya exclaimed in frustration.

"Shh, it looks like something's happening," Nino said.

Indeed the side doors opened and an imposing man dressed in black robes walked into the courtroom. "That's not Judge Corrompu," Marinette whispered to the other two as they stood. Marinette turned and shared a conspiratorial smirk with Chloé, who smiled triumphantly. As she turned back to talk to Alya, she caught Mr. Agreste staring at her, alternating his gaze between the two girls. He looked confused, yet calculating – as if he knew they were responsible for this strange man walking in but had yet to connected the dots entirely. _Did he overhear us earlier?_ Marinette wondered, biting her lip.

She snapped out of her worries about Mr. Agreste as the robed man walked over and sat in the judge's chair. As he settled in, the rest of the courtroom followed his cue and took their own seats. He rapped his gavel and declared, "Court is now in session." The judge pulled out a pair of glasses and studied the notes in front of him for a few moments. Then, he looked up at the crowd and addressed them. "All parties convening today for their cases, please stand." Several people around them rose. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, court cases assigned to Judge Malin Corrompu have been reassigned." A low murmur spread through the crowd.

The judge frowned in annoyance as he banged his gavel with a sharp rap. "Order." The people quieted. "All court cases are reassigned and rescheduled to next week. Any affected party shall be notified of their new date and time. Court is adjourned." With another rap of the gavel, he dismissed them.

Alya turned to Marinette with a squeal. "We did it!" the blogger all but shrieked in her ear and flung her arms around her friend's neck.

"It's not over yet," Marinette reminded her. "We just got the judge removed. Maybe now we'll have a decent chance at winning."

"Don't be so negative. Just enjoy the fact that _we did it_!"

Despite herself, Marinette allowed a tiny grin to form. "Yeah," she agreed. "You're right. We did it." She held up a fist on instinct, ready to do her victory cry with Alya.

A heavy hand clamped down upon her shoulder and she jumped. She turned to find Mr. Agreste peering at her, his blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I believe I am quite interested in hearing _exactly_ how you all," his intense gaze drifting from the three of them over to Chloé and Sabrina before snapping back and locking into Marinette's, "did whatever it is you did."

Marinette gulped. She got the sudden feeling she was in _very_ big trouble. "W-we just did some research," she explained. Beside her, Alya nodded frantically in agreement.

"Hmm... and what of this video you mentioned outside the courthouse?"

Crap. She was hoping he wouldn't bring that up again. She flashed a look of panic at Alya, who returned it with equal wide-eyed panic. Great. No help there.

"Uhm..." her brain scrambled to find a reasonable (and safe) explanation.

Mr. Agreste straightened. "Be at my house after school. No excuses." He released Marinette's shoulder and swept past them, aiming for Adrien. He was intercepted by the old man who was sitting beside Adrien, solidifying her suspicion about his relationship to Adrien. The two elder men exchanged words in a low voice before Mr. Agreste – casting one long forlorn look at his son that caused Marinette's heart to clench – turned and stomped away, effectively rebuked from speaking with Adrien. The blond followed his father's departure with sad eyes. His gaze caught hers and she flushed and looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at her crush. When she dared to glance back, she discovered him smiling at her. It was a tiny smile, but a pure one. He looked at Alya, Nino, Sabrina and Chloé with equal joy, the happiness of seeing his friends supporting him conveyed in a slight upturn of his lips and shining eyes.

Her heart swelled. She wished she could talk to him and offer some reassurances but his grandfather ushered him out one of the side doors. Adrien smiled and waggled his fingers at her – _at her_ – as he left the room. She nearly swooned into Alya's arms.

"I guess we go back to school now," Nino said, breaking her out of her fantasy.

"And try to think of a suitable lie in the meantime," Alya added.

Marinette trailed after them in silence. Somehow, she didn't think she would be able to trick the intelligent designer with a lie. Great. She probably would have to tell him the truth. Which meant he would disapprove of her because of her recklessness. And there goes any chance of friendship with Adrien.

* * *

Gabriel sat at his desk, deep in thought as he mulled over that morning's events in his mind. He thought he had a decent case – akuma victims had never been held accountable for their actions nor the city for any undue distress before Ladybug's cure restored everything. The crux of his argument lay upon that one fact.

But his research into the judge frightened him. He was _certain_ Hermine had him under his influence. Yet those kids sounded so confident when they declared they would handle the judge. He hadn't believed them – not really – but their enthusiasm was contagious and he couldn't help but feel reinvigorated. Their confidence fueled him into the night and well into the early morning hours as he poured over his notes, desperate to build a case for Adrien. He couldn't leave such important things to his lawyers, even though he knew they were also preparing a defense for him.

When he heard the name of the judge that morning on his way to the courthouse, his heart had sank. He didn't know why exactly, but something in him had held out hope that those kids would succeed. He hadn't realized just how much he had hoped until it was dashed.

It was pure luck he sat behind those same teenagers in court. At first, he hadn't paid much attention to them chattering until something caught his interest and he focused upon their conversation. The resulting dialogue stunned him into silence, more so when he spotted the clumsy girl – Marinette – swapping a devious grin with the mayor's daughter. Then, the impossible happened.

The judge was dismissed.

He couldn't believe it. The kids had succeeded! As they celebrated, he realized he _had_ to know what occurred. When they first proposed their plan, he assumed they would end up "persuading" the mayor to interfere and reassign the judge. That is, until he caught a few words of their hushed discussion. Words like "video," "killed," and "dangerous."

What was going on?

He spent the remainder of the afternoon attempting to search online for a video related to the judge, but couldn't find any. He would just have to ask them directly.

He put a finger to his lips. Hmm, not all of them. Just the one. She appeared to be the root of the problem. If he could question her alone, he might get an honest answer from her if she wasn't surrounded by her friends.

After a few hours, a familiar buzzing cut through his concentration – or rather the lack thereof, he thought as he stared at his blank sketchpad – and Nathalie was informing him of the arrival of the group of students. He stepped out to meet them.

"Actually," he said, "I wish to speak with only one of you." He zeroed in on the girl who had upended her pastry box at him that morning, his eyes targeting her like lasers. She gulped. "I believe you were the one who has taken charge of speaking to me?" he said, grateful he remembered that little detail from previous meetings. She nodded and cast a wary glance to her friends. "They can wait in the dining room. Nathalie, please see to it that refreshments are served."

His assistant inclined her head once and shepherded the others into the dining room, leaving Marinette staring up at him with a small amount of confusion and a large amount of apprehension.

"This way, please, Miss Marinette."

She jolted at the use of her name and stepped ahead as indicated by his outstretched arm. He closed the door behind them and stepped past her to go to his desk. He sat and motioned for her to do the same. "Tell me about this mysterious video," he began, not bothering with pleasantries.

She blanched and fiddled with her purse. "I... cannot," she said at last.

"Cannot? Or will not?"

She shrugged. "Both? Why does it matter?"

"Do your parents know about it?" She flinched. Score. He pressed his advantage. "I could call them."

"I would rather have them angry at me than you forbid me from being friends with Adrien," she said, her soft voice startling him as she once again clutched the straps of her purse.

He blinked. Where would she get a notion like that? He frowned. "I won't forbid you from seeing Adrien," he said. She looked up. "But I would like to see that video."

She bit her lip and contemplated his words. Separating her from her friends was a good move. She would probably have sought advice from them. Now, she was alone and had to think for herself. He wondered if she had that strong backbone he had seen in previous visits or if it only appeared when in the presence of her friends.

She met his eyes and he instantly took back every negative thought he just had. He had to refrain from withdrawing from the intensity in them. She stood and extracted her phone, flicking at it a few times. "You promised," she said at last, meeting his eyes and holding her mobile out but not surrendering it just yet. _Nerves of steel on this one,_ he thought in approval.

He nodded. "I did." Her fingers relaxed and the device dropped into his hands. "How did you acquire this video?" he asked as he fiddled with the cords.

She shifted. "I uhm... sneaked in and filmed it on my phone," she said in her shy, quiet voice.

Gabriel paused and looked at her. "You filmed this yourself?"

"Yes?" She appeared to shrink in on herself, uncertain of his reaction. He frowned, now more eager than ever to see this mysterious footage. What could cause her to act so wary of his response? He plugged the phone into his monitor and flipped it around so he could gauge her reaction when watching it. He clicked a button and the video began.

He wasn't certain exactly what he was expecting when he thought of the video. Maybe some grainy amateur footage of the judge vanishing into a seedy motel with a woman hanging off his arm. Her friend was the blogger with the professional-level videos. This girl had none of that experience. He barely refrained from gasping when the video displayed the casino, payoff, and crystal clear conversations captured with a steady hand. He risked a glance at Marinette and noticed the quirking of her lips into a proud smile as she watched the results of her work displayed on the monitor. Wow. She didn't look the least bit remorseful. He was loathe to admit, but he was thoroughly flabbergasted with her.

He cleared his throat as the video ended, remembering that he probably shouldn't act _too_ impressed. After all, he was an adult. She was a teenager who risked her life for this footage (and here he actually agreed with her reckless blogger friend).

He met her eyes again as the screen faded to black and from her knowing smirk knew he was caught. He gave up and returned her grin, albeit a bit sheepishly. "That was quite... astounding," he conceded.

"Thank you," she replied, the pride evident in her voice as she hastened to explain further. "Sabrina knew a few trustworthy officers on the force and was able to slip my video to them. Alya had been researching into the judge and discovered a money trail. That plus this video opened up a huge extortion scandal. I had thought it would have been resolved before the trial, but Chloé explained that it had taken longer to investigate and prepare their case. They ended up intercepting the judge while in his chambers. It was close, but we prevailed in the end."

"That you did," he murmured. He frowned at her. "But it was incredibly dangerous," he admonished.

She lowered her head, looking contrite. "I won't do it again," she promised in a meek tone that jarred with her previous self-confidence.

Gabriel had a sudden peculiar urge to question that particular statement – his shrewd businessman mind seizing upon the potential loophole. Of course she wasn't going to do it again. After all, that particular judge and hotel were now off limits. That didn't mean she wouldn't pull a similarly dangerous stunt in the future. He sighed. He had to stop thinking like that. She didn't mean anything by that. It's not like she would purposefully use language like that to carve loopholes into their verbal agreement... right?

The grin faded from her face as the worried concern reappeared. She clenched her fists and looked up at him. "You're not going to give up on Adrien, are you?" she asked in a voice as tiny as her body.

He shook his head. "I had a defense planned," he assured her.

"So did Alya," she said. "Did you know that Adrien is old enough to decide for himself where he wants to live?" His expression must have confirmed his confusion, because she gave him a gentle smile. "I thought not. It was something Nino uncovered while we were looking into the judge. He also found out that you never actually received a summons in the first place. Even though the judge signed off that you had, Nino didn't find any proof in the file on Adrien's case. That means Adrien never should have been taken away from you because you didn't ignore a court order. You can use that as part of your defense with the new judge."

Nino. That abrasive boy who called himself Adrien's best friend. Maybe the kid wasn't as bad as he previously thought.

And why did his lawyers fail to uncover this issue with the summons? He would have stern words with them if they missed vital information that mere teenagers discovered.

Marinette continued, oblivious to his inner thoughts. "He said that a fair judge would have required proof of the summons before issuing the decree to have Adrien removed from your home. He also said that a fair judge would ask Adrien who he wants to live with. Before, you weren't going to get an unbiased judge, but now that he's gone, Chloé said that her father can make sure that you get one of the judges who isn't influenced by Adrien's grandfather."

Ask Adrien.

Well, that was the one question he feared the answer to above all others. What if his son didn't pick him? What if Adrien didn't _want_ to come back home? He didn't know if he could handle the rejection like that.

He swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat.

Was it really fair of him to place his own selfish needs above Adrien's?

What if Adrien really _was_ happier with his grandparents?

If it would make him happy... Gabriel knew he would concede to his son's decision. He realized after the first visit with his son that while he might fear the final outcome of the trial, Adrien's happiness superseded his own. If that's really what his son wanted, he wouldn't fight it anymore, no matter how painful it might be for him to accept.

Marinette still rambled on, and goodness that girl could babble about nothing in particular. "So you don't have to worry at all because I know that Adrien misses being home and he would totally, one hundred percent, pick you."

He didn't know why, but that warm innocent optimism cheered him.

"Thank you, Miss Marinette. I believe that will be all for today." He stood to escort her out of the room.

"You're not going to tell my parents I snuck into a hotel and secretly filmed illegal activity, are you?" She looked up at him with worried eyes.

He shook his head again, now with faint regret that he agreed to her terms before knowing the entire story. "I gave my word," he told her. "But don't pull another dangerous stunt like that again."

There it was again, that amused glint in her eyes, like she was privy to some secret he didn't know.

"I'll be careful in the future, Mr. Agreste," she promised, her hand brushing against her pink purse.

He led her over to her friends, and it was only after the group of them left that he realized that Marinette never _actually_ promised to not do anything dangerous again, just that she would be careful. He groaned and wondered if she was really that canny or if he was just overthinking things.

He sincerely hoped it was the latter.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

After that first time in court, the days skipped by in a blur and Gabriel couldn't believe it. Every day he sat at his desk staring at the calendar where that fateful Wednesday was circled in red ink. That was the day that this whole nightmare ceased to be.

One way or the other.

His hands trembled as he attempted to sketch to take his mind off of things. He was so grateful for Nathalie, handing all of the mundane aspects of his business while he cowered away uselessly in his office, turning over every heartbreaking scenario in his mind.

_Ask him._

So simple. So terrifying.

It had been ages since he last knew what Adrien truly wanted, and he hadn't realized this with more clarity than this past week. Despite the reassuring words of Adrien's loyal classmates, he hesitated to fully embrace the joy they felt. Would Adrien even care? Would he want to come home? He loved being with his grandparents, who doted on him as any grandparent should. As any _parent_ should.

He rubbed his eyes again, sending his glasses askew on his face. He couldn't think straight. His traitorous mind waffled between dread and elation at the upcoming trial. He wanted it to be over. He wanted his son back.

But did his son want to come back?

Before he knew it, he stood on the steps of the courthouse again, staring up at the doors that would seal his fate. He arrived unscathed this time – no unfortunate encounters with flyaway pastries. He found a seat in the courtroom and did a quick scan of the people, noting the gaggle of Adrien's friends near the back... and Adrien himself, seated in the front row. He tried to catch his eye, but Adrien wasn't looking around. He stared at the ground, forlorn and despondent.

What did that mean?

The judge entered and Gabriel took a long moment to study her. She was dark skinned with no-nonsense brown eyes that promised unyielding judgment. He hoped she was one of the fair ones the teenagers talked about. Knowing the resourcefulness of the kids – that one girl especially – he felt more than confident in their abilities. Still, he glanced back to gauge their responses.

The pigtailed girl bumped fists with her blogger friend. Both grinned at the mayor's daughter. Good news, then. She glanced around and caught his eye. Her smile widened and she flashed him a thumbs up. He almost smiled in return, but couldn't even force out a small one because of his growing anxiety. He settled for a polite nod. She beamed at him in response, undeterred by his stoic answer.

"I'm Judge Zoé Vertueux," the judge declared, folding her hands and casting her gaze around the room, settling upon him. A shiver of apprehension ran through him. "I'll be presiding over your case today. My predecessor has left quite a quagmire for me to sift through, but I believe I have a fair grasp on the basics of the case. Mr. Agreste, I'll begin with you. Do you have anything to say in this matter?"

Gabriel stood. He cleared his throat, drawing from every single moment of frightening business speeches, and started to present his case.

"Your Honor," he began in a steady voice that thankfully did not betray his true uncertainty, "to begin with, my son should never have been removed from our home in the first place." Gabriel reached into his briefcase and pulled out the document that Marinette had referenced previously. "I have here a copy of the paper stating that I received a summons to a court appointment. I understand that it is to be believed that I ignored said summons and thus was automatically ruled against in my absence. However, I received no such summons."

The judge frowned as Gabriel walked over and handed the paper to the bailiff, who handed it to the judge. "Furthermore," he continued, "according to the public access records, it shows that the previous judge signed off on the order to allow Adrien to be removed from his home without proof of receipt on file. There is no picture of me receiving the summons nor a signature recorded. Yet, my son was taken from our home in a move that essentially blindsided me." His gaze slid over to Hermine, who appeared just as stunned as the judge. "Intentionally or not."

The judge frowned as she looked over the papers, clearly displeased with her predecessor's lack of due process.

Gabriel continued. "However, since we cannot change what has happened, I shall address the original reason for this session. I was informed my house was unsafe, having been targeted directly by an akuma victim and the security breached while Adrien was inside. This is true, but I must comment on the absurdity of holding me responsible for the actions of another."

He paused for a moment, bending down to extract some more papers from his briefcase before straightening. "My house is fortified against many things, and the belief that I could have prevented a breach of security due to a magical attack is absurd." He held up a few photos of various monuments and buildings destroyed due to akuma attacks. "Famous historical places have been decimated during attacks and yet those victims were not held accountable. The owners of those buildings have not been punished. If the government cannot even prevent akumas from destroying places that are important to France due to collateral damage, how am I to prevent an attack where I was directly targeted?"

Judge Vertueux looked up and met his eyes. "You raise an interesting point. Mr. Eclat, do you have anything to say?"

Hermine stood. "Yes, your Honor, I do." He turned to face Gabriel. "First off, I was unaware that the previous judge did not follow the proper protocol for the summons. I had erroneously assumed when we received word of your ignorance of the court date, that it was intentional and well, to be frank, some kind of power play. For that, I apologize." Gabriel blinked. Hermine turned back to the judge. "But the issue remains, our concerns that Gabriel continuously places Adrien in danger for akuma attacks. His school is repeatedly converted into a battleground and many of the students within have been turned into victims themselves. We feel it is only a matter of time before someone gets seriously injured. Ladybug's cure can fix much, but we would rather not test if it can restore permanent injuries. For his safety, we believe Adrien would be better off in our care."

The judge looked back to Gabriel. "Mr. Agreste? Do you feel that Mr. Eclat is valid in his concerns?"

"No, your Honor," Gabriel replied. "I'm sorry, Hermine, but to hold someone accountable for the actions of another is insane, as I previously remarked. Adrien is smart enough to know to avoid danger, just as many of the citizens of Paris are familiar with the evacuation protocols to safely escape attacks."

"But you caused that man to become akumatized," Hermine interjected.

Gabriel scoffed in reply. "My ire was aimed at the announcer, for tricking me into believing I was accepting an interview for my upcoming line. I cleared my schedule to fit him in, only to discover it was nothing but a childish ruse. I declined to participate in his farcical scheme. That victim should have directed his rage against that announcer because he didn't fail the contest – he never got the chance to display his talents. Mr. Cataldi turned the contestant against me and as such, the victim misdirected his anger at me instead. Irregardless of that, dozens of people get angry or upset daily. Should we hold everyone accountable for the reactions of others? Should we separate those children from their parents? Obviously since they were akumatized, their parents must have raised them poorly enough to not have a handle on their emotions." The last was said with heavy sarcasm, but Gabriel was done playing nice. "And should we separate the children from the adults who happened to become akumatized? I know several of them have families of their own."

"You've made your point, Mr. Agreste," the judge said. "And yes, I agree with you on those issues. But Mr. Eclat believes that your son would be happier and healthier living with him and his wife." She turned to the boy, and asked the one thing Gabriel both desired and feared. "Adrien, we have heard both your father and grandfather make excellent points for custody. But the one person we have yet to hear from is you." She folded her hands and cast him a warm smile. "Tell me, who do you want to live with?"

Gabriel's breath caught in his throat. Adrien stood, biting his lip. He purposefully avoided looking at either his father or grandfather and met the judge's serene expression with his own steadfast one.

"I miss my friends," Adrien declared, hesitant yet clear. "I miss my school and my home. I miss my father."

Gabriel's heart clenched into a tight ball in his chest at Adrien's words.

"But," Adrien added, and Gabriel's heart jumped into his throat as Adrien continued with a nervous nibble on his lip, "I like spending time with my grandparents. I don't want to stop seeing them either."

"Hmm." The judge studied Adrien, then Hermine and Marie, then rested her dark brown eyes upon him. He clenched his jaw to stop the trembling. "I see," she murmured. She bent her head, shuffling through the papers in front of her. The minutes stretched into eternity. He couldn't recall the last time he felt so... scared. He wasn't afraid to admit it. He was terrified. He already lost his wife. He couldn't lose his son, either. He wouldn't survive. The shuffling of papers and the clear declaration from the judge as she spoke snapped him back to reality. "I've reached a decision."

Gabriel thought his heart would stop right then and there it pounded so hard. His vision swam. His head spun with dizziness. He leaned forward and gripped the back of the bench with iron-tight desperation. His breath caught in his throat.

"Adrien may continue to live with his father, Gabriel Agreste, as it appears to be in the best interest for him," she declared and Gabriel's heart leapt for joy. He sagged, and his hold on the chair was the only thing preventing him from collapsing. His knees shook like jelly and barely supported his weight. "But Hermine and Marie Eclat shall be awarded visitation rights – once a month at minimum – to be determined at a later date. Court will take a ten minute recess. Dismissed." She banged her gavel and Gabriel didn't hesitate in bounding over to Adrien, wrapping him up in a tight hug. He distantly recognized the cheers of his classmates, but ignored them. Nothing mattered more to him in this moment than his son.

* * *

Adrien was in shock. He hadn't really expected to be called upon to get asked his own opinion. Both his father and grandfather made convincing cases, and he had to force himself to stare at the floor before he could look at his father and lose all composure. His father probably wouldn't appreciate his less-than-professional presentation if Adrien started getting emotional.

But here he was, wrapped in a death-gripping hug by his father of all people. The usually stoic man practically clung to Adrien as if he was afraid if he released him Adrien might slip away, like sun-bleached grains of sand falling through his fingers.

It didn't take but a second for Adrien to return the hug – deep and fierce and awkward but oh so comforting. He sighed into his father's jacket, closing his eyes as Gabriel's long arms surrounded him. Eventually – much too soon, Adrien thought with a pang of remorse – his father pulled away, blinking hard and gripping Adrien by the shoulders. He held him at arm's length and stared down at him.

"I really missed you, Father," Adrien confessed.

His father's face softened and the rapid blinking started up again. "Adrien," Gabriel began, "I... me, too."

A rough scraping noise beside him snapped them both out of their reverie. Adrien looked over to see his grandfather smiling sadly beside him. His grandmother looked to be in near tears next to her husband.

"Adrien," his grandfather began, seemingly for the first time to be at a loss for words.

"I still want to visit you guys," Adrien told them, emphatically trying to reassure them. He felt Gabriel stand up beside him, still resting one hand upon his shoulder. His grandmother blinked away her own tears.

"Oh dear, I'll miss having you around the house," she said, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"I'll practice my baking while at home," he told her with a smile. "Then when I come back I'll show you what I really can do! I'll even get Marinette to help me."

To everyone's surprise, Gabriel spoke up. "If Adrien can even learn a tenth of that girl's skills with cooking, you're in for quite a treat."

Both of his grandparents and Adrien stared at Gabriel in shock. It wasn't often his father lavished such high praise on someone. Gabriel ignored Adrien and focused upon Hermine. "It isn't fair to keep you out of Adrien's life," he said, appearing to force the words out. He sounded strained, awkward and unsure. "Despite our differences, it's clear we both share one thing in common." He glanced to his son. Adrien flushed. "I think we can work out some kind of arrangement so you wouldn't have to be out of his life for very long."

His grandfather appeared as stunned as Adrien. "I..." He glanced to his wife, cleared his throat, and amended his statement. " _We_ would like that very much. Perhaps I misjudged you, Gabriel. You must have done something right if you raised a fantastic boy."

The corners of Gabriel's eyes crinkled as a gentle smile formed on his face. "Thank you, Hermine. But I cannot take all of the credit. Yvette was there every step of the way. She must have learned that from you." The fashion mogul held out his hand and the ex-senator accepted with a solid shake.

Adrien looked past his father and spotted all of his classmates watching with varying degrees of smiles. The blond beamed at them. His father noticed and followed his gaze.

"Ah, yes. You have very loyal friends," he remarked, waving them all over. They rushed to to the front in glee. Chloé and Sabrina lingered in the background, behind the others. Adrien suspected it was because the blonde didn't want to be noticed by his grandfather. "Especially this one," Gabriel added, motioning to Marinette. She blushed bright red and squeaked as she was singled out by his father.

"Marinette?" Adrien asked, confused.

"Ah, is this the darling Marinette?" his grandmother piped up, her eyes sparkling with delight. "It's a pleasure to meet you, dear. Adrien spoke very highly of you and your incredible baking skills."

"Grandmother!" Adrien gasped, feeling his cheeks heat up in mortification. His flush only deepened when he spotted Alya jabbing an elbow into Marinette's side with a giant grin on her face, causing the girl's blush to grow as she ducked her head. He slid beside her, hoping to alleviate some of her embarrassment. "Thank you for everything you did. I'm sure whatever you did was absolutely amazing," he said to her in a low voice.

To his confusion, instead of relaxing, she stammered something incoherent as Alya roared with laughter. "What did I do?" he asked her. Even Nino smirked at him.

Oddly, it was his father who stepped in with an explanation. "Miss Marinette dropped your homework and notes off every day after school before I informed her you were being tutored privately. All of them also stopped by several times to inquire as to your well-being." His eyes softened as he appeared to reflect on something. "They were very encouraging."

Adrien looked at her in surprise. "That was very nice of you, Marinette," he said. "What have I done to deserve a great friend like you?"

Alya choked on her laughter and stuffed a fist in her mouth to muffle it. Marinette offered him a shy, dainty smile before turning and leveling the deadliest glare he had ever seen at Alya. He turned to his father in confusion only to find him exchanging an amused smile with his grandparents.

"W-we all worked together," Marinette said, snapping his attention back to her. Her blush had faded from sunset-red to a light dusting across her cheeks. Worked together on what? Homework gathering? He was confused. "We missed you in class, Adrien."

He opened his mouth to reply when the bailiff walked over to them. "I'm sorry but court is about to resume. Either take your seats or vacate the courtroom."

They decided to leave. In the lobby, Adrien wrapped his grandparents into a fierce hug with a promise he would keep in touch. His grandfather handed him back his cell phone. Then, Adrien turned and followed his father outside, his heart soaring for the first time in a long while. He was going home.

* * *

Of course the day after the epic Ladybug-worthy courtroom battle (Alya's words!) Marinette had to go back to dull, boring school.

The only difference was Adrien was back, sitting in front of her like he never left.

She let out a dreamy sigh. Okay, so it was a big difference.

It was a roller coaster of emotions the day before, with Adrien's heartbreaking plea to the judge (quiet, Alya, it's not a testimony unless he's under oath!) and his father's astonishing display of affection. It had to have been all of that excitement that caused Mr. Agreste to actually praise her. Praise her! To Adrien!

She almost swooned again right there at her desk.

Alya snickered beside her and Marinette flicked a piece of paper at her friend. It stuck to her hair. Alya picked it out with a roll of her eyes. She was so caught up in her reminiscence of the previous day's events that she almost missed Adrien turning around to face her during a small break in lessons.

Almost.

She couldn't help the gleeful smile that bloomed on her face.

"Hey Marinette," he said. _He's talking to me!_ her mind screamed. "I heard uhm... from a special source that you filmed a very unique video." He smiled at her. "Would I be able to see it?"

"I'll show you anything you want," she replied automatically, staring at him with half-lidded eyes and her chin propped up on one fist. His eyes widened in surprise. Alya snorted beside her. "Ah!" she exclaimed, bolting upright as she realized _exactly_ what just slipped out, "I-I mean the video! You can see the video if you want! Sure!" Why was his smile so disarming?

"Great! How about after school?"

"Sure," she replied, her voice taking on the dreamy notes she normally adopted around him.

"And I hate to impose upon you," Adrien added, rubbing a hand across the back of his head in a familiar motion that would have had Marinette's knees turned to jelly had she been standing, "but I guess I'm still a bit behind. Since you dropped off my work everyday to my father, do you think you would be able to give me a quick review of everything we've done?"

"Sure," she replied, eager to agree with anything he said.

"Great!" he repeated. "I guess I'll see you after school, then." He turned back around and faced the front, completely missing the enormous grin plastered onto Nino's face as the DJ exchanged a gleeful smile with Alya.

"Girl!" Alya hissed once Nino had also turned back to face the board. "You just got invited over to Adrien's house to help with his schoolwork. How are you so calm?"

Marinette blinked and stared at her. "I... did what?"

Alya chuckled and patted her arm. "Why am I not surprised. Chill out, Marinette, because you need to keep it together for both of your sakes this afternoon."

Marinette's head swam with happiness, her mind fantasizing a million different scenarios. She was on cloud nine, a bliss only comparable to the joy of the Elysium fields. An eternal, Adrien-filled Elysium field. Her very own Isle of the Blessed.

In the fire pits of hell. What had she done? In an instant, she realized with horror the exact extent of her damaging babbling. _She was going over to Adrien's house after school,_ her mind screamed in one long note of utter panic.

What was she wearing? Did she look okay? What would she talk about? _Would she even be able to talk at all?_

Her mental freak-out and slight hyperventilating came to a sudden halt when a hand slammed down on her desk and she jumped with a shriek.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng," a frosty voice snapped her back to reality. She growled as she looked up at Chloé.

"What do you want, Chloé?" she asked.

"Our truce is officially over."

"What?"

Without another word, Chloé flipped her hair and stalked back over to her chair. Despite her declaration, Marinette spotted a faint smile on the corners of the blonde's lips. _Hmm, maybe things will work out for the best,_ she thought. After all, Adrien was back in class, she was invited over to his house for a study session, and Chloé's icy disdain had thawed somewhat.

Things could only get better from here.

* * *

Adrien bounced with excitement as he fluttered around his room, plumping pillows and arranging cushions and wiping off his immaculate desk. Marinette had to go home after school to get her notes and he seized the opportunity to prepare for her arrival, ensuring his room was in tip-top condition and perfect for his friend. He reflected on the previous night as he cleaned.

His father had sat down with him for dinner, promising to be more involved with Adrien's life from then on out. He had asked Adrien all about his activities at school and the boy regaled his father with semi-exciting stories about fencing competitions, gym class obstacles, and time spent with his friends. His father listened attentively even though Adrien had thought for certain that he would have departed immediately after eating. Instead, they sat for nearly an hour, talking about many things. Adrien left the dining room that evening feeling lighter than he had in several months. Gabriel had praised Nino's diligence and thoroughness in researching (though his father declined to say _what_ exactly Nino researched – Adrien would have to pin down his friend tomorrow during school because he had gotten distracted asking Marinette over to his house today). He never thought he would ever hear his father approve of his best friend, but Gabriel had tossed out a casual remark of how Adrien might consider pairing up with Nino for future projects, as the boy could ensure their reports would be well-documented.

Adrien was left speechless at that. And then his father had gone on to ask several pointed questions about his friendship with Marinette. He wasn't sure why at the time, but after talking with Alya and discovering his friend had secretly filmed a video that had been instrumental in the removal of the corrupt judge, he wondered if his father had known of it. He would have to ask Marinette today. She would know. Alya had told him that Marinette talked at length with his father privately. He wondered what that was about. Maybe the video? Another thing to ask her about today. In between studying, of course.

After his room was spotless, he poked his head into his father's office, eliciting a startled jump out of the man.

"Can Marinette come over for a few hours today?" he asked, his words rushed and breathless.

"Whatever for?" his father asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"To help catch me up on what I missed while I was away," Adrien explained.

His father pondered the request for a moment and then nodded. "I don't believe you have anything extra scheduled this week," he answered. "Your friend is welcome to come over anytime."

Was it his imagination, or did his father place special emphasis on the "friend" part? He tilted his head to try to get a read on him, but the elder man leaned over to scoop up a paper that had fluttered to the ground when Adrien burst into the office unexpectedly.

Gabriel straightened and looked up at Adrien. "Was there something else you needed?" he asked. "If you're trying to figure out how to ask if Miss Dupain-Cheng can stay for dinner, don't bother. She's welcome to join us. I'll inform the chef right away."

Adrien could feel his face growing hot. "That's not... she's not..." Gabriel lifted an eyebrow at Adrien. "She's not going to stay for dinner!" he finally managed to spit out.

"She's not?" Gabriel shrugged, as if the answer didn't bother him either way. "Well then, if you change your mind or get too wrapped up in your studies, just inform the chef." His father picked up his pen and went back to marking through some sketches. He glanced back up after one or two strokes. "Was there something else?" he asked when he noticed his son hadn't moved.

The question spurred Adrien into action. "No! Thank you, Father," he cried, backing out through the door and heading back to his room, missing the amused smile that formed on Gabriel's face the moment he departed. Plagg snickered from inside his shirt. "Oh hush, you," Adrien grumbled.

About fifteen minutes later, Adrien heard the buzzer sound and Nathalie answer. He bolted out of his room (he was _not_ listening at the door, now be quiet, Plagg!) and made it all the way down the stairs just as Nathalie opened the door for Marinette.

"Hi, Marinette!" he greeted, forcing himself to take a deep, steadying breath to calm himself.

"H-hi, Adrien," she replied, grinning widely at him. She hooked her thumbs around the straps of her backpack. "Sorry I took so long," she apologized as Nathalie went back into the atelier, "but I lost track of time looking for all of our notes."

"It's no trouble," he assured her. He motioned ahead of him up the stairs. "I was just catching up on some studying while waiting for you." Plagg vibrated in his pocket. Adrien resisted the urge to slap him.

They made it all the way up the stairs and almost to his room when a voice stopped them in their tracks. "Ah, good afternoon, Miss Dupain-Cheng." What was his father doing out of the office? They turned toward the voice.

"Hello, Mr. Agreste," Marinette said, polite and courteous. Adrien refrained from glaring at his father. What was he up to?

Gabriel stood at the top of the opposite set of stairs and descended slowly. His face remained stoically neutral as usual, but Adrien thought he detected a gleam of... was it mischief?... in his eyes. That couldn't be right. He blinked, and the moment vanished. Must have just been his imagination.

"Adrien tells me you're going to be over here often to help him catch up on his schoolwork," the older Agreste said.

Marinette nodded. "Uhm, that is, if that's okay with you, sir," she said.

"Of course," his father replied. "I would hate to see Adrien fall behind in his studies. I do hope this isn't an inconvenience for you."

She shook her head. "No, I'm happy to help," she assured him.

His father quirked a smile. "You're a great friend to him," he said, and this time Adrien was almost one-hundred percent positive his father had purposefully emphasized the "friend" part. Almost.

His eyes narrowed in accusation at his father and he opened his mouth to say something when he paused. Just what exactly was he going to say? Stop embarrassing him? She really was just a friend? But Marinette didn't seem to pick up any inconsistency. She remained her usual stammery self.

On cue, said girl stammered something in reply to that remark. Gabriel hummed in response before glancing around. "I won't keep you from your studies any longer," he said. "Since you have to be home before dinner."

"Uh..." Now Marinette looked confused. "Oh, you must have plans."

Gabriel shook his head. "No, I had assumed you did, since Adrien informed me you couldn't stay for dinner. Was I mistaken?"

Marinette turned to him. Adrien was certain his face was a mask of red that could rival Ladybug's own mask. "Father!"

"You're welcome to stay, of course," Gabriel continued, pointedly ignoring Adrien's outburst. "I know how intense those study sessions can become and cause you to lose track of time. I'll inform your parents if you would like."

"I... that's very kind of you, sir," she replied. She glanced to Adrien and deflated, casting her eyes to the floor once she caught sight of his expression. "But I don't want to impose upon you... or Adrien."

"It's no trouble!" Adrien insisted, wanting to bring back that cheerful exuberance he had seen seconds earlier. "I insist. Please stay for dinner," he said.

She met his eyes with a shy smile. "Y-you insist? I won't be in the way?"

"You can never be in the way," he affirmed, solidifying his statement by placing his hands on her shoulders in what he knew was a surefire tried-and-true way to reassure her. Her cheeks turned pink under his touch.

"Now that that's settled," his father said, interrupting them, "I'll leave you two to get to your studying. Please let me know if you need anything. I'll summon you both when it's time for dinner."

The designer turned and ascended the stairs. Desperate to shake off any awkwardness from the encounter, Adrien turned to Marinette. "So, about that video?" he asked hopefully.

Her giggles filled the hallway as she crooked a finger toward him. "Be careful what you wish for, Mister," she said in a shockingly coy voice that struck him to his core, "because you might get more than you bargained for. Prepare for the surprise of a lifetime."

With an equally huge grin splitting his face, he trailed after her as she led the way to his room.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support!
> 
> A very special and sincere thank you to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) for beta-reading this and helping me with ideas. This story started as a very rough draft of about 26k words, and grew during the editing phase under her strict and guiding hands to 37k words as the final draft. Credit for all the smooth ideas, flawless transitions, and plot-hole plugging goes to her. Do please check out her works, they are amazing!
> 
> Additionally, I had planned to end this story at the end of Marinette's little blurb in school, but Perdita convinced me that since this was a story about Gabriel and Adrien, I should end it on at least one of their POVs. Since Adrien didn't get much screen time in the final chapter, I switched it back over to him and added his final section. So, you can thank Perdita for Gabriel trolling his son.
> 
> For those of you who follow my works, you should know that villain, hero, tragedy or humor, I will always continue to write Gabriel Agreste as a decent human being for a long time coming, despite what the show canonically gives us.

**Author's Note:**

> A sincere and special thank you to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) for beta-reading this and helping with ideas and plotting.
> 
> Hermine is pronounced with a silent H. It sounds like Ermin. I know it's not French, but in fact it is a nod to the name of the hotel I stayed at when I first started writing this story. I needed a placeholder name, and just kept it.
> 
> Because the majority of this was written prior to Season 2 airing, I leave Hawkmoth's identity ambiguous. It was a decision I grappled with long and hard, but in the end I started writing it one way, and was forced to possibly shift it in another direction.... so I kept it up in the air. Hawkmoth's identity has no bearing on this story.
> 
> (But if you know my writing at ALL, you know which way I initially wrote him.)


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